Stray Phoenix
by Hamliet
Summary: Yut Lung grew up as a pawn in the Lee family. Determined to topple his brothers and grasp a new role for himself, he is accustomed to playing every person he knows. When he is warned about Golzine's intentions to inject Shorter with Banana Fish, he chooses to free Shorter instead, and then finds himself in a new game, one he may not know the rules to.
1. Lost Boy

_In the dark there are no strangers_

 _There are no strangers at all_

~"Lost Boy," The Midnight

* * *

The dumb one was at least smart enough to realize he shouldn't trust him, but not smart enough to prevent Yut-Lung from noticing his mistrust. Yut-Lung lasered his focus on the blond man, the one with the same coloring as Ash but none of Ash's intelligence, and smirked. The other man scowled.

That one would be useless. No doubt Golzine knew that he was stupid and was only using this one for the bare minimum he could offer. He was hardly worth Yut-Lung's time.

Yut-Lung tilted his head back. Shorter and the Japanese rat had been dragged out of the room. Now Hua-Lung was leaving, and Yut-Lung could only dip his head in subservience as his brother passed him, squeezing his shoulder as if to say chin up. It wasn't like Golzine would do anything with Yut-Lung that Hua-Lung hadn't done with him dozens if not hundreds of times.

"Take our guest to his room," Golzine said to one of his faceless bodyguards. Just like the blond one, they were useless, their features not worth memorizing. "I'll be with you shortly." He smiled at Yut-Lung.

He curved his lips into a demure smile. "Can't wait." He wished he had alcohol, or something, to dull the inevitable pain. Oh well. If he managed to find what he needed to in order to destroy his brothers, it'd be worth it. _Nothing pained nothing gained,_ or so his mother used to say when she was teaching him things, like how to ride a bike. She'd kiss his scraped knee and say that. They said you never forgot how to ride a bike, but Yut-Lung was fairly certain he'd forgotten, because simple pleasures like bike riding were irrelevant to his life ever since she'd been ripped away from this world.

"When I see to you, we'll have our other guest join as well," Golzine added.

Yut-Lung cocked his head. So Golzine was into threesomes. He wasn't surprised. "Shorter?"

"No, the Japanese one."

The blond idiot let out a cackle. "Ash will flip."

 _Welcome to hell, you oblivious moron,_ Yut-Lung thought. _Ash will burn you alive._ He wondered what Eiji would be like afterwards. Would he hate Ash, then, for not saving him? Would he still cling? Yut-Lung was betting on the former.

"Hm." Golzine stayed seated as Yut-Lung rose. "I'll call Abraham to get to work with the other one. Shorter Wong."

"Him too?" asked the blond kid.

 _You're a true idiot, and not a naive one like Eiji. I think I hate you even more than Eiji,_ Yut-Lung decided.

"No. He will be our test subject," Golzine said. "Abraham was looking for one."

Abraham Dawson. The scientist whose nephew he pretended to be. The scientist who made Banana Fish.

 _I'm not lying!_ he'd insisted to Wang-Lung.

 _Yet._ His hand drifted towards his throat.

"I heard Chinatown had a new boss anyways," Golzine added to the walking dumb blonde joke as the bodyguards led Yut-Lung out of the room.

The words burned against Yut-Lung's bones. _You're going to kill him?_ Shorter was such an idiot. They told him to leave. Hua-Lung offered him praise, and he refused it to stay with a useless Eiji, and now he would die for it. After Banana Fish? Because of Banana Fish? He didn't know. He needed to know, if he wanted to use it.

The guards escorted him to a lavish room with a wooden headboard and ornate curtains. Yut-Lung watched as they used the lock. The code solidified into his memories.

 _I thought you looked like Eiji._

And there were tears, warm, against his face, or there had been back then. Stupid. Shorter should have been crying for himself. Though Yut-Lung didn't think crying was ordinarily part of a gang member's repertoire. It certainly wasn't a part of his as part of the Lee clan. His brothers told him not to cry, because his mother cried and it made them angrier.

 _You're nothing but a venomous snake._

Bred by other venomous snakes. Yut-Lung studied his image in the mirror, untwisting his hair. It fell over his shoulders in a black waterfall. Hua-Lung was right; he really did look like his mother.

It'd be a shame about Shorter. He was at least smart enough to realize how fucked up the Lee family was, instead of blindly following them. Yut-Lung grabbed a comb and untangled his hair. Fuck, there weren't any tangles. He still kept combing.

An alive Shorter with a grudge could be most useful to him, especially if Shorter owed him. Suppose Golzine found another subject, and then— _I could set everything in motion sooner than I'd planned._

He pictured Golzine's face again and scowled. For sleeping with the likes of that man he'd deserve to take over sooner rather than later.

Yut-Lung pressed his ear against the door. It took him only a few seconds to slip through the hallways. Golzine's voice still rumbled from the same room he'd received them in, and the dumb blonde's twerpy voice. He wound his way through the mansion's hallways, taking mental note so that he wouldn't get lost. A moment that lacked concentration could have disastrous consequences. Like when his mother didn't lock the door that night long ago.

The keys were easy enough to find. Golzine wasn't stupid, but neither was he as smart as Yut-Lung was. It only took a few seconds to put the guards to sleep with his needles.

Shorter was in a room across from the lab. The pungent odor of cleaning fluid stung Yut-Lung's nostrils as he slid into the room. Bright lights glistened against the wall. He squinted.

"The fuck do you want?" Shorter demanded, lounging back against the wall as if he didn't have a care in the world. Yut-Lung could see through him. "What, Golzine wasn't interested after all? Not blonde enough?"

Yut-Lung scowled. "You think he cares? Or that I do?"

"Don't you want to make your brothers proud?" shorter wasn't backing down. Fool. He was like Ash in some ways, Yut-Lung supposed. He cared too much.

"Why didn't you listen to him?" Yut-Lung asked. "You could be eating hot pot with your sister."

"While Eiji and Ash die?"

That confirmed it. He'd already known, and yet it still struck him in the abdomen, a soft shock. "I didn't realize you were vulnerable, too," Yut-Lung said.

Shorter blinked. "Huh?"

"With your loved ones," said Yut-Lung. "Ash, and Eiji too. You could have escaped and had our family's esteem. Now Golzine plans to kill you."

Shorter clenched his fists.

"By giving you Banana Fish," Yut-Lung added.

Shorter's eyes widened slightly. Ah. So he did know more about it.

"I don't want the approval of snakes," managed Shorter.

 _Fine, I'll be a snake then._ "What about the gift of a snake, then?" Yut-Lung held out the key.

"The fuck?" Shorter's brow creased. "This is some kind of trap."

"Yes," said Yut-Lung. "It is. I'll collect on a favor someday, but don't worry, it won't concern any of your loved ones."

"I don't believe you." Shorter stared at the key. It glinted against the blinding lights.

"I don't have all day." Yut-Lung tossed it at him. "Your choice. You get to escape, but you can't take Eiji with you. Leave that to Ash, or to someone else. I hear the Chinese have a new boss. Maybe you can work with him; they all idolize you anyways." That much he knew.

"How do you—"

"I hear things." Yut-Lung paused. "Don't tell my brothers."

"Why would I care to keep it—"

"I'm going to kill them," Yut-Lung said icily. "You should be happy to hear that. And maybe the favor I ask of you will be if I require your help." He turned on his heel as Shorter's mouth fell open.

 _They have scorned and condemned me, but my time will come._

 _It's just around the corner. And this will help me._

* * *

"I'll tell my brothers you saved me," Yut-Lung said to Sing Soo-Ling. The kid showed up with Shorter to help save Ash and blow up Golzine's mansion. And thanks to the chaos, in Yut-Lung's pocket he held the rest of Banana Fish. He should have known Shorter couldn't stay away, but at least he was alive.

Sing was brilliant for fourteen, but still fourteen, which meant he didn't quite seem to have realized that Shorter couldn't be the boss of the Chinese if he was on the Lees' bad side, which he was. Or maybe he just didn't care. If that was the case, that would benefit Yut-Lung. _This can work._

Yut-Lung placed the binoculars down. Sing grabbed them to peer out of the helicopter himself. Good. He didn't trust Yut-Lung either.

"You helped Shorter escape," Sing remarked. "He told me."

"And if you ever repeat that, I will throw you out of the next helicopter."

Sing snorted. "I'd like to see you try."

Yut-Lung glared.

"So you're undermining your brothers," said Sing. "Why?"

"Why does it matter?" Yut-Lung focused on the lights of the city below. They sparkled like yellow and crimson diamonds, and Ash's car drove straight into them, the lights swallowing him up.

"If there's going to be a Lee civil war, I'd like to know whose side is the winning side."

"Mine is," said Yut-Lung instantly. "But there isn't going to be a war." He could use Banana Fish to depose them. The poor bodyguard Golzine had chosen in Shorter's place. That was gruesome. If it had been Shorter, Ash would have been even more incensed, and Yut-Lung wasn't sure he wanted to picture that. "You admire Shorter, don't you?"

"Sure. He's been good to all of us. He's—"

"Not in charge of Chinatown as far as my brothers are concerned," said Yut-Lung. "But he can be, when I'm in charge. Or you can be. I don't really care. You're both good."

Sing narrowed his eyes. "I'm not interested in selling out someone over me for power. That's you."

Yut-Lung contemplated slapping him. "My brothers are something else entirely."

"Like what?"

"Like, you don't need to know."

"Like, if you want my support, you should start talking."

"I give the orders here."

"That was a request."

"Shut up."

"Keep talking. I wanna know."

 _I'm going to shove you out of_ this _helicopter,_ Yut-Lung decided. He glared at Sing. "I'm in a living hell. I don't tell you because I don't want you to be dragged into that hell."

Sing gaped at him. And then a laugh broke through his lips. "That's so cheesy."

Something cold settled in Yut-Lung's stomach. He peered outside again. The city lights obscured any stars.

"But you make it sound real," said Sing. "We'll be in touch."

Wang-Lung was the only one home. Figured. Hua-Lung was at least nice to him even if only because he wanted to get into Yut-Lung's pants. Wang-Lung complimented Sing and let him go. Good.

"You," said Wang-Lung. "Stay a minute."

"Fine." Yut-Lung stayed standing, playing with the edges of his hair. Wang-Lung wouldn't be distracted by it, though, unlike Hua-Lung.

"How did Shorter Wong escape?"

He knew this question was coming. "I've no idea. But if they wanted to give him Banana Fish, I can't think that it was in any way beneficial for—"

A hand struck him across the face. Yut-Lung stayed standing. Damn, it stung. But he wasn't going to fall. Not this time.

"That was not your goal," Wang- Lung informed him.

"I did—"

Wang-Lung grabbed him by his hair, throwing him down. His own hair wrapped around his throat. Yut-Lung gagged. So much for staying on his feet. But shit—breathing was—

"Your goal," Wang-Lung said, peering down at him, his knee on Yut-Lung's chest to pin him to the ground. His hand gripped Yut-Lung's hair, strangling him with it as if it was a rope. "Was to figure out what Golzine was up to, not rescue replaceable—"

 _I'm replaceable to you, but you are to me_. "I didn't! Sing even said I didn't!" It came out a croak. His face burned, swelling. Any second now and he'd have to resist physically, and that would—

"You probably lied to him. You lie all the time." Wang-Lung yanked the hair tighter.

Now he couldn't breathe at all. Yut-Lung tried to stay still— _stay still, he'll let go, it won't last, it will end, he has more uses for me_ —but _shit_. Panic pricked his fingertips. Something dark and slimy grabbed the back of his neck. Black dots popped at the edge of his vision.

He jammed his knee up. Right into Wang-Lung's groin. He rolled over, spitting and hacking. Air flooded his lungs, like sandpaper against his throat. He could think again.

He couldn't get up. His legs felt like jelly. He rested his chin on the carpet.

"You—" croaked Wang-Lung. "You—"

 _Fuck_.

"Don't you _ever_ ," said Wang-Lung. The floorboards creaked as he got to his feet. "Raise your hand to me again."

There was no escaping it this time. Yut-Lung closed his eyes. "Technically, it was my knee."

The swiftness of the kick was enough to tell Yut-Lung that, at the very least, his words found their mark.

* * *

"I don't trust him," said Shorter.

"You can't trust a snake," said Sing. "He sounded serious about trying to take his brothers down, though." He waited for Shorter's reaction. Shorter Wong was the type of person Sing wanted to be: bold and fearless, quick-thinking and quick-acting. Yut-Lung lurked in the shadows, moving slowly no matter how fast his thoughts rushed. "Any loyal person in Chinatown should warn them." Then again, none of them knew a seventh Lee son existed.

Shorter slid his eyes towards Sing. He rubbed his forehead.

"How's Ash?"

"Hiding out with Eiji. I haven't spoken to him much."

Sing knew enough not to ask why, exactly. He knew when Shorter showed up at his place, demanding they help free Ash and someone named Eiji without even knowing that Sing had already taken steps towards that, he seemed frantic over something. But then Shorter had given him a nod of approval, and it was enough. To be noticed.

 _If you get involved, you risk your sister and everyone in Chinatown._ Sing knew Shorter had already asked Nadia to stay with Charlie for the time being, but it wasn't sustainable. She had a business to run. _But if you don't, you'll be abandoning your best friend._

Sing had asked him how he got out when he first showed up, and Shorter said it didn't matter. Yut-Lung bluntly owned up to it, though. "I'm going to go talk to him."

Shorter shrugged.

"Are you going to talk to Ash?"

"Are you always this nosy?" Shorter asked, lifting his sunglasses.

"Yes," said Sing. "I want to know everything."

Shorter waved his hand. "Get lost."

 _Yut-Lung made you betray Ash._ That much Sing was pretty quickly able to piece together. But he still didn't quite understand why Yut-Lung would then help him out since he hardly seemed the type to do anything unless it spun around to benefit him.

He sent Yut-Lung a text. _meet me for coffee._

 _No._

 _fine ill meet your brother instead_

 _It better be important,_ Yut-Lung responded.

Sing doubted Yut-Lung's definition of important was the same as his was, but it didn't matter.

When Yut-Lung arrived, he moved stiffly. "Aged a bit?" Sing jeered.

If looks could kill, Sing would be skinned alive. Yut-Lung dropped into the chair. He was wearing sunglasses. Sweat shone on his forehead.

"Or imitating the person you helped free?" Sing asked.

"Do not make me slap you."

"So your bogus threats have shruken. At least it's not being pushed out a helicopter." Sing stretched. "I want to know why you helped Shorter go, and what exactly you plan to do with your brothers, and whether it's worth it because if you go ahead and get yourself in trouble, I have a half-brother to think about—"

"That's something you still haven't learned," said Yut-Lung. "If you want to be a leader in our world, you can't be loyal to people at the expense of everyone else. That's Ash's problem. That's Shorter's problem. If you want to—"

"I don't want to be like you," Sing cut in.

"Obviously not," said Yut-Lung. He was quiet. "I have an ace card."

"Then show it to me. I'm sure they'd pay me enough for a nice apartment to hear that their little bastard brother is—"

"Banana Fish," said Yut-Lung. "And if you say a word—"

"Please say you'll hang me by my toenails or something dramatic; your threats today are too boring." Sing frowned. "Wait, what the hell is a Banana Fish?"

"Ask Shorter to ask Ash," said Yut-Lung. "Unless the best friends are no longer best friends." He almost sounded optimistic at the prospect.

Sing arched his eyebrow. "You want everyone to be as lonely as you are?"

Yut-Lung stiffened. "It will put my brothers in a coma. There will be no war. There will only be a younger brother taking—"

"You don't think people will be suspicious—"

Yut-Lung dropped his gaze. "Not if you and Shorter back me."

 _Who else are you planning on working with_? "And Ash?"

"He hates me for kidnapping his friends."

"Maybe if Shorter worked with him," said Sing, and then scowled. _That's exactly what you were planning, isn't it?_

"If he wins against Arthur," said Yut-Lung. "There will be a war, but between them." He leaned to the side. His hair seemed almost greasy as opposed to how sleek it looked last time Sing saw him, despite Yut-Lung coming from his house this time and not from a blazing inferno.

"Hey," said Sing. "Are you—Yut-Lung?"

Yut-Lung's head slumped forward. Sing hesitated, and then reached out to push his shoulder.

Nothing.

 _Are you kidding me?_

He jabbed him with a straw. "Hey! Loser. Bastard Lee. Snake. Wake up." He was breathing, thank God. His face looked white as a corpse, though. Bloodless. "Wake. Up. Or I'll call your brothers."

He made no movement. Fuck, so he really was out of it. Did he pass out? Was he on something? His breathing seemed shallow, fast, like someone who had been stabbed, but he obviously hadn't been.

Sing cussed. If he left him here, he might get mad and turn the tables on Sing. If he called his brothers, they'd ask questions. Or Yut-Lung might die and then all hell would break loose if everyone found out he was the last person seen with him. Sing yanked out his phone.

"What?"

"Hey Shorter," said Sing. "You know that favor you owe Yut-Lung? I think you have the chance to make that up right now. Do you know a doctor who works in the underground and also can you rent a taxi because I'm broke?"

Yut-Lung's voice echoed. _You can't be loyal to people at the expense of everyone else._

 _I'm not doing this because I care about you. I'm doing it because I'm thinking of everyone else I care about._

Besides, if it benefited him, Yut-Lung surely wouldn't complain, would he? Unless he wanted to die.

 _Well, whether you want to or not, you don't get to right now._


	2. Lucky Ones

_'Cause after all this time_

 _Still don't know where we're going_

 _But look how far we've come_

 _And as long as you're just as lost as I am_

 _I'll hold you in the morning_

 _Like we're the lucky ones_

 _~"Lucky Ones," Lights_

* * *

His abdomen felt like Wang Lung's foot was still stuck to it, like his organs had been grated, like bones had been embedded in muscle and vein. Was it possible to be in this much pain, or was this the dead version of hell?

He cracked his eyelids open.

"You're very lucky," an older voice told him.

 _Huh?_ Yut-Lung pushed himself up on his elbows. He gaped at a man with a bushy beard, draped in a white coat. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a doctor," he said. "Your friends brought you here. The blood vessels in your liver were damaged; I had to—"

 _You almost killed me, Wang-Lung_! Of course it would be his brother, his stupid brother. Hatred stung Yut-Lung in his palms. It was always their fault. No matter how hard he struggled, they managed to beat him down. He curled his fists. _I have to beat you down. I have to. I am not trash_. "Where am I?"

"You need to rest."

"Where am I?" Did his brothers know where he was? The last thing he remembered was—he'd been talking to Sing— _Sing, you idiot!_ "How long have I been here?"

"You came in last night; it's around five in the morning now."

"Shit." His brothers would know he was gone. "Where's my phone?"

"Your friends have it." The doctor clucked his tongue.

 _Friends?_ Yut-Lung gaped.

"I had to do an emergency surgery and give you two bags of blood. The injury looked at least a day old. You should have come in sooner."

 _Motherfucker_! Though—did that mean the doctor didn't know who he was? Yut-Lung swallowed. His throat was so dry it felt like swallowing sand. "Where are these _friends?"_

"Outside."

Yut-Lung surged forward to get up. His head spun. It felt like fire exploded against his side, burning flesh and bone. He cried out.

"Lie back," the doctor snapped, grabbing him by his shoulders and pushing him back. "You need to rest. It'll be at least another day until you're on your feet."

 _Fuck you!_ Yut-Lung did not like being pushed back, told to lie still. He'd had enough of that. And he was just starting to make headway— _my jacket._ Sing had better not have messed with it. He had the vials of Banana Fish in the pockets. If—

Panic grappled for his throat. He wanted to scream. He had to—

The door opened, and Sing stumbled in, followed by—Shorter Wong. Yut-Lung's eyes narrowed.

"Back from the almost-dead," Sing commented. "I thought you might be faking, but when you didn't respond when I mentioned your—"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Yut-Lung demanded to the other one. The one who really was the reason he was here.

Shorter gestured to himself. "Paying back your favor. You saved my life, I saved yours."

He did not just lose that advantage. _Wang-Lung, you really do ruin everything_. "That doesn't count!"

"It does too," countered Shorter, hands in his pockets.

Yut-Lung squeezed his eyes shut. His chest heaved.

"Here're your things," Sing added, shoving a bag at him. "He said you'd have died if you waited another hour for medical attention. Did Golzine kick your ass at some point?"

"No." Yut-Lung fumbled inside the plastic bag. His jacket, vials still safe. One. Two, three. All there. He exhaled. His phone was here too. He didn't quite know whether he wanted to turn it on just yet.

"Then who did?" asked Shorter. "So I can shake their hand."

"I fell down the stairs."

"So, your brothers," Sing surmised.

"Shut up!" Yut-Lung glared at his phone's blank screen. "Maybe I'll just tell them you kidnapped me."

"They keep you on that short of a leash?" asked Shorter, arching his eyebrows. The light glinted against his piercing.

"If you say that I will ask the doctor to cut off your pain medication," Sing retorted.

Yut-Lung scowled. "I wasn't really going to."

"What did you do to piss them off? Do they know about your plans to kill them or—"

"Shut _up!"_ Yut-Lung squeezed his eyes shut. "No, they found out I helped _you_ escape."

Shorter said nothing. When Yut-Lung glanced at him, he saw Shorter's lips pressed together. _Does it really bother you that someone you hate got hurt for helping you_?

It couldn't. It was just misplaced guilt, and Yut-Lung could use it. Then again, did it really bother Yut-Lung that someone he hated hated him? Or maybe he didn't hate Shorter or Sing. In fact he rather liked Sing, even if the brat was annoying. He had a spunk Yut-Lung wished he had. Shorter had a charisma that could be useful.

"Shit," said Sing. "So are they onto us?"

"Not yet. Probably not, anyways." Yut-Lung reached for his phone and hesitated. He could only imagine what they'd say to him now. Then again, it was their fault he was here and not at home. "They're probably more worried my existence will get out." _Soon, everyone will know. I exist. I exist. I exist._ He was in pain and breathing and here.

"Why is it a secret?" asked Sing. "I didn't know until you showed up with a goddamn helicopter. I've only heard of the six Lee sons."

Yut-Lung bit his tongue. "My mother was not their mother. She was my father's mistress that he took later in life." A stereotypical secret bastard child.

They never forgave his mother for making their mother cry.

 _"She was a slut, so you're one too."_

 _"It was all she was good for; I'm sure it's all he's good for too," said Wang-Lung, Hua-Lung's arms around Yut-Lung. "Have at it."_

Footsteps, walking away.

He still didn't know if "it" was the deed or himself.

"I have a half-brother," said Sing. "We don't always get along, but he's still my brother."

 _You are too nice._ Yut-Lung managed a sigh. "That is not how our family operates. They sent me in there to gather information, and I put that at risk. Their anger is understandable." Even if it only existed because they were too narrow-minded to consider what he'd considered. That Shorter was worth more alive than dead. That Yut-Lung existed as his own person, not just his mother's son.

Even if he would have been content just being that, her son. He couldn't be, because of them, because they stole her.

"I don't know," said Sing. "I mean, they almost killed you."

He turned away from them. His brain felt heavy, weighted with memories. He shifted his hair so that it would cover the bruise on his neck from where Wang Lung choked him. They would probably find it funny, him being choked by his hair.

Then again, he supposed they knew. They knew he didn't save Shorter out of the goodness of his heart, because he had none. And he didn't even have loved ones, and they knew that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, now. Not even family.

"They have the Banana Fish," he said. "It's over. They won't let me back in the house after they find out you two saved me. They'll never trust me again." He tightened his grip on the vials inside the jacket. He had to work this out. He had to. He couldn't give up. Shorter and Sing weren't foolish enough to trust him. But if he could play on that sympathy, even to the smallest degree, maybe he'd be able to claw his way into what he'd always been dreaming of.

 _What's that?_

He wasn't even sure, but he knew his brothers would all be dead. "You should have let me die."

In truth, he knew, they probably should have, but not out of concern for him.

* * *

Shorter hesitated outside of the place Ash and Eiji were crashing. He cussed. He didn't like this feeling, the uncertainty, the wavering. It was stupid. He and Ash had been best friends since—

Best friends didn't sell each other out. Arthur'd always been a piece of work. But Shorter… He avoided glancing at his reflection in the windows he passed. He studied his fingers, unmarked.

He swallowed. He had no idea what happened to Eiji, but he knew Golzine's plan. _And I ran out. To save my own skin._

 _I came back, but was it enough?_

The one thing Shorter Wong had never considered himself was a coward. He didn't hesitate to kill, if it was necessary. He didn't mind scaring bastards and rats. If he minded, he wouldn't be alive right now, and neither would Nadia. Ash was restrained, holding himself back from killing unless he had to, as if he was afraid of something, as if his features might morph into Arthur's. And even though fear was something Shorter fucking hated, there were times he had wished he could be afraid. Like Ash, or like Eiji, even. He'd never been one for _if onlies,_ but now, fear coiled around him, and it was a fear like Ash's. Of himself.

The door swung open. Shorter stiffened. Alex and Bones emerged. "Shorter!"

He waved. "Ash inside?" _I am not scared. Fuck off._

"With Eiji," they confirmed.

Well, he had no choice now. Shorter ducked inside, heading up the stairs and into the decaying apartment. Graffiti marked the walls, slit by years of use and bleeding gray stone and crumbling concrete.

"Shorter!" Eiji dropped what looked like a loaf of bread onto a plate and scrambled over. Was he making sandwiches? "You're—okay!" He stopped, face reddening.

I'm _okay? What about you?_ "Worry about yourself," he said gruffly.

"Shorter," said Ash's voice. He emerged, hair damp, from the bathroom. Shorter felt guilt, hot and thick, wrapping around his spine. "Wanna talk?"

Shorter nodded. He flopped onto the fraying couch. A spring creaked.

"Want a sandwich?" called Eiji.

"They're shitty Japanese sandwiches," Ash warned him. "With tofu."

"You like my sandwiches! You eat them!"

"It's that or starve!"

Shorter almost smiled. He'd never seen Ash like this with anyone. Not even with him, and they were friends. Brothers, really.

"So," Ash said, gripping his ankle. "I know, okay, Shorter? You have your sister to worry about. I just—"

"It wasn't like that," Shorter blurted out. "I mean—" His heartbeat echoed in his ears. "Fuck, I mean, yes, they did threaten Nadia. She's living at Charlie's right now. And Yut-Lung—every time I tried to tell you, he was there—they told me to go and leave Eiji, but I wouldn't. I said I'd kill Eiji and then myself before I left him to that pack of rats." He lowered his face, remembering the hilt of the knife pressed against his palm.

"Thank you," Eiji said quietly. He put three plates down with some weird sandwiches on them.

"Thank me?" Shorter snorted. "I got you kidnapped, and I—"

"But you had a good reason," Eiji insisted. He dropped down next to Ash, gripping his knees. "I knew you did—I knew you wouldn't have—Shorter, I know you—"

"You clearly—"

"I know," said Ash. "Shorter, I don't blame you. I blame Golzine, and Arthur. Golzine'll find a way to fuck up every single thing I have. You and I are no different."

Of course.

Ash could never truly trust him again. Especially now that this wasn't over. Shorter wouldn't let him. His shoulders slumped. "And then I left you, anyways, Eiji. Yut-Lung said they were going to inject me with Banana Fish—from what you said happened to the bodyguard—" _That would have been me._ Trying to kill Eiji. Shorter's stomach turned at the thought. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you to that asshole. I don't know what he did, but—"

"He didn't actually—" Eiji stopped. His face was redder than a tomato. "I mean, we got the phone call that you were all back, before he could—hurt either of us. Yut-Lung untied me, and Dino left, and that was that."

Ash's face turned green, and purple, like a bruise. Guilt, again, reflected like a mirror.

Guilt was a merciless bastard. _At least we have that in common._

"Look," said Shorter. "I know I can't exactly—work with you guys anymore. But you should know. Yut-Lung was planning on offing his brothers with Banana Fish, but then they beat him and almost killed him, so now he's at the same doctor's who treated your brother, Ash, and now his brothers have Banana Fish, which means I'm sure Golzine and Arthur are about to get their hands on it again."

Ash swore. He gripped the edge of the couch, avoiding looking at Eiji. His jaw tightened.

Shorter hated himself for telling Ash. He had to, though. Or else there was no chance. Nightmares would close in on them, chew them up, spit them out. _This is our life, Eiji. We run on fear. We make others cower or we cower ourselves._

 _We forget it, though, when we're with friends._

"I think if you were to offer to support him, he'd help you get rid of them, and it," Shorter said. "Sing wanted me to bring it up."

"Shorter, you really aren't in control of the Chinese anymore?" asked Eiji.

Shorter snorted. "No, I still am. Just behind Sing's face. But he's the one who actually saved Yut-Lung's ass from dying. So Chinatown—some of us—will help."

"Too bad," said Ash. "I hate Yut-Lung. I hate him so much. He—"

"Is a lying snake," said Shorter. "Like all of his family. He won't be any better than they would be. He might be able to get you what you want, though."

"I don't trust him," said Ash. "He'd betray me if he thought it could—"

"True," said Eiji. "I mean, he—I feel like I saw his true colors in that—bedroom." Eiji paled. "He'd sell Ash out to Golzine if it would benefit him."

"Sing thinks it's smart to keep him close," admitted Shorter.

"What do you think?" Ash asked.

Shorter met Ash's gaze. "I'll do what you think."

"What do you think?" Ash asked again. "I trust you. Within reason. But I do trust you."

 _Please don't._

 _I'd rather see what I'm afraid of._ Monsters were easy to stare down. When they snuck up on you, when it was too dark to see your hand in front of you, to see if your hand was marked or not, you fell apart.

"I don't trust him," Shorter said. "But I trust you, and Sing's a smart kid. Reminds me of you in some ways. We can work out a loose arrangement. If he shows any snake-like behavior, and he will, I'll end him." He may have saved his life, but now Shorter had saved his, and the clock started again. And this time, he wouldn't take a risk. This time, he wouldn't betray Ash or Eiji or any of them.

Ash met his eyes and nodded. Eiji studied a loose thread in the cushions.

 _Ash, you are a stupid fucking angel._

But like an angel, he was giving him another chance, and Shorter was a selfish dick for taking it, and he only hated himself more.

* * *

Yut-Lung pretended to sleep so Sing would leave. Of course, then he actually fell asleep because the doctor put more medicine in his IV. He woke when the sky turned blood orange outside, dyeing the sunlight falling onto the cot he lay on. He grabbed his phone and finally turned it on. Texts poured in. Threats, of course.

He dialed. Hua-Lung would be easier to talk to. Yut-Lung could manage to sound flirty over the phone. His stomach churned.

"Where the fuck are you?" erupted Hua-Lung's voice.

"Relax," said Yut-Lung. "I have to. I mean, I'm in a goddamn hospital."

Hua-Lung sucked in his breath. "Are you—"

"You can tell Wang-Lung he almost killed me the other day. Apparently I was bleeding internally. From my liver. I passed out and a good Samaritan got me to the hospital." He fiddled with his hair, running his free hand through it, stretching his fingers towards the light.

"Are you serious, Yut-Lung?"

"Unfortunately."

"He didn't mean it."

"I know. I know he wouldn't kill me. I'm too useful to him." He kept his other brothers distracted and was smart enough. And he could be whored out to any ally. "Actually, Hua-Lung, Shorter Wong found me."

"What?" His brother's tone changed. "Where is—"

"I don't think I need to tell you just yet."

"Excuse—"

"It was pretty obvious that one of you delivered the blow to my abdomen," Yut-Lung said casually. He tugged on a strand of hair and frowned as one came out. He dropped the dead strand onto the floor. "But he's still loyal to Ash. Too loyal."

"I'll send someone for his sister."

"She's with her cop boyfriend."

"That doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?" Yut-Lung leaned his head back. "I can, perhaps, work with them and report to you."

"They'd never trust you."

"They don't necessarily have to. They certainly aren't idiots for thinking I might resent someone trying to kill me. And I _did_ save his life."

"Don't try to argue you had this planned."

"I didn't. I'm simply trying to make the best of the situation and amend my earlier mistakes. Unless you have no further concerns with Ash or Golzine, but I think we both know we do."

"You overestimate Wang-Lung's faith in you."

"He just put his foot through my liver," Yut-Lung pointed out.

Hua-Lung exhaled. "I'll talk to him and ask him to call you."

"Thank you." Yut-Lung cleared his throat. "My loyalty is to the Lee family. You know that." He softened his tone.

"I do," Hua-Lung confirmed. "I don't doubt you, Yut-Lung."

He hated the way his name sounded in his brother's voice. His hair felt heavy and thick now. He wanted to shower.

" _He needs a little extra convincing," said Wang-Lung. "I'm sure you won't mind sharing, Hua-Lung." He crouched down, reaching for Yut-Lung, who was still stupid enough to look up at his other brother in a futile hope that he would save him. The lightbulb glowed too bright, obscuring Hua-Lung's face, but he let go of Yut-Lung's shoulder and he found himself in the bed of a man he'd never met before and hatred for Hua-Lung that rivaled Wang-Lung surging inside him._

Wang-Lung taught him chess in the days following that business partner. And then Yut-Lung understood. _I am your pawn_. He was a sacrificial lamb, he was a toy to be pimped out and given away and used however they needed to bring them the firmest grip on Chinatown.

It had been years since they played chess, but Yut-Lung knew how to play now, knew how to improve, had beaten every level on the app on his phone, played on his own when he could. _If we played now, Wang-Lung, I could beat you._

 _I would. I will._

"I'm just supposed to trust you to check in?" Wang-Lung demanded when he called. "I—"

"Quiet, brother," said Yut-Lung. "You almost killed me. I believe that if Shorter starts talking about that, it will create an issue for the family."

"I can kill him."

"Yes, but you can't kill his influence. Everyone in Chinatown loves him. They fear us."

"Then we will make them even more afraid."

Yut-Lung pressed his lips together. "I hear Ash stole the vials of Banana Fish. And that the drug isn't as typical as we thought."

Wang-Lung exhaled. "If you wanted an apartment of your own, Yut-Lung, you could have just asked."

"You'd have said no."

"I'd have said yes and made myself a key."

"You have no reason to doubt me," said Yut-Lung. "I will do whatever it takes to procure Banana Fish. If we can figure it out and sell it, then—"

"Fine," said Wang-Lung. "I relent. But don't look over your shoulder. Again, I won't kill you."

So people would be watching him. "I'd expect nothing less of you." Yut-Lung hung up. Something strange twinged in his stomach, but it wasn't pain. His face felt stretched. He reached up his hands.

Oh. He was smiling, but without a reason.

No, for a reason.

He felt like he could breathe.


	3. Cry Little Sister

_Blue masquerade_

 _Strangers look on_

 _When will they learn_

 _This loneliness?_

 _~"Cry Little Sister," Gerard McMahon_

* * *

This was going to be the world's most awkward meeting. Yut-Lung glanced down at his jeans in disgust. This street clothing did not suit him. But he had to play this role. He'd do whatever it took.

"You realize a lot of this could have been avoided if you'd decided to play differently in LA," Shorter said.

Yut-Lung glanced at him. "I didn't know about Banana Fish then."

"I'm now wondering whether you did, since everything you say is a lie." Shorter reached for his pocket, lifting out the hilt of a knife.

"If something goes wrong, you'll kill me," said Yut-Lung, tossing his hair as if he was bored. "I'm aware." He wondered if whomever his brothers were sending to watch him would notice and intervene, or let him die. If he had to die, at the very least Shorter killing him would irritate his brothers. But then Chinatown's sympathies might swing back towards the Lees.

Stairs sucked. He might have a clean bill of health, but climbing stairs still felt like someone pounding his liver again and again. Yut-Lung bit the inside of his cheek. Blood dribbled onto his tongue and sweat pricked his forehead.

Shorter eyed him. "Need help?"

"No." He wouldn't slow down or hesitate. He couldn't.

"Fine, rip your stitches."

"I don't see why you're complaining when it'd do your job for you," Yut-Lung panted. "See, we both win." He reached the top as Shorter rolled his eyes. They entered the apartment Ash and Eiji were staying. And Sing was already there. And three other guys of Ash's as if for insurance. Jesus, Ash really _did_ hate him. Well, at the very least that was fitting. Ash or Shorter could kill him after he killed his brothers, if he had to die.

"Yau-Si," said Eiji, standing behind Ash. Ash almost looked protective.

Yut-Lung didn't understand. Or rather, he did, but it was so strange. _You hate me because I put him in danger._

 _You love him, don't you?_

"It's Yut-Lung," he corrected. "Since I have been informed that if I lie, Shorter will slit my throat." He folded his arms, determined not to wince or breathe too fast.

"Sit down before you fall down," snapped Shorter.

"I'm fine."

"Shorter did mention you had surgery," said Ash. His gun was hooked to his belt. He gestured towards the couch. "I thought about sending your brothers a card, but I hate them more than you do, so."

"I assure you that's not possible." Yut-Lung finally sat. Ash stayed standing. _Bitch!_

"So your brothers have Banana Fish."

"Correct." Not. They were in the pockets of these ugly jeans. "They aren't aware of what it is, though, since I told them it was all destroyed. If they find it, they'll likely think I have a cocaine habit, until Golzine gives them a friendly call."

"Do you?"

Yut-Lung scowled. "No."

"What do you want from me?" Ash asked.

"Simply that, when I kill my brothers, you will support me in taking over Chinatown." He gestured towards Sing and Shorter. "They've already agreed, but the support of outsiders wouldn't be—"

"And what do I get?" Ash asked.

"I will give you Banana Fish, when I get it back."

"I don't want it. I want to destroy it."

Yut-Lung blinked. "Why?" He didn't understand. Didn't Ash want power? Having Banana Fish would—

"You saw what it did to that bodyguard." Ash cussed. "It killed my brother." He stared at Yut-Lung, unrelenting. And he knew what he was doing.

Yut-Lung swallowed. What would it be like, to have brothers who cared for you? He folded his hands in his lap. "I see." _You really are vulnerable. Even more so than I expected._

 _Is this all a game of revenge against Golzine? Don't you want to get something for yourself in it, too?_ He did. His family's legacy.

Ash turned to Eiji, who was studying his shoes as if they were designer, which they surely were not.

 _You just want people to love. And you want them to love you, but you know they shouldn't, but you do anyways._

 _You're that simple._

 _How? I don't understand. You're smart, not stupid. People who are that careless are stupid. I don't get it. I don't._ And if he didn't get Ash, he'd be hard to manipulate. _Maybe I'm the stupid one. Why can't I understand? Think, think, think, you fucking idiot!_ He pressed against his stitches. Pain sparked.

"Fine," said Ash. "And you'll have my back in this war with Arthur. My plans for Dino are already underway."

Eiji swallowed.

"That's up to Sing," said Yut-Lung. He glanced at the kid.

"Obviously," said Sing, leaning against the crumbling bricks.

"Good." Yut-Lung gestured. "And you have Shorter here to kill me anytime you don't like me. I know you have a second knife in your back pocket and a third in your sweatshirt, by the way, Shorter."

"I'd _like_ to kill you right now," Ash said.

"But you won't. Someday, maybe." Yut-Lung got to his feet. "I can talk to Cain Blood for you, if you'd like."

"I'll talk to him myself."

"Good luck."

Ash didn't return the sentiment. Yut-Lung turned and stalked out. Shorter followed, like a bodyguard, or really more like a jailer. Going down stairs was no easier than going up them. Figured.

"Wait!" a voice called out as they reached the street. Yut-Lung turned around to see Eiji dashing towards them. "Shorter, I wanted to—"

Of course. Nothing to do with him. Yut-Lung exhaled.

"Do you really think you'll be okay with—"

"I think I can handle him," Shorter interrupted.

Eiji hesitated. "You know, I really don't blame you—"

"No," said Yut-Lung. "You blame me." Yut-Lung spotted two men across the street, drinking coffee as they chatted. He glanced away.

Eiji's brow wrinkled. "Because it was your fault."

"I'm not denying that." Though his brothers had given him the orders. "Do you have something useful to say, or are you just trying to rattle me?" _It won't work._

"I was going to ask why you didn't say that you hated your brothers when we were together," Eiji said, chest heaving. "I was practically begging you to give me an answer, and all you would say was this was Ash's world, and you tied me to—"

 _So you_ can _get angry_. Eiji was no doll after all. Yut-Lung examined the ends of his hair. "I had no reason to suspect any of us could get away."

"So you just sink deeper into it? Why don't you fight?"

"That's what I am doing."

Eiji glared at him, mouth twisting as if Yut-Lung made him sick.

"You know," said Shorter. "You're already rattled. And I'm guessing it has to do with the two men across the street watching us."

"Yes," said Yut-Lung. "It does."

Eiji paled. "What?"

"I'm guessing they're from my brothers trying to find me," Yut-Lung said.

"Or sent by you," Shorter snapped. He reached for his pocket. "You'd be a decent hostage."

Yut-Lung's heart began to pound. _Wang-Lung, why did you hire these morons?_ "They won't care."

"They might."

"Only if things got dire enough." Yut-Lung swallowed. He wondered. Would they? Or did Wang-Lung actually want to be rid of him? "Don't look at them," he commanded Eiji, stepping on his foot.

Eiji narrowed his eyes.

 _You want them to get suspicious of me, don't you? You know they won't fully trust me. This is deliberate_. Yut-Lung gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to let them win. He reached into his pockets and withdrew two needles. Shorter took a step back.

"Fine. You win. Take me hostage," said Yut-Lung.

"What?"

"Pretend," said Yut-Lung. "If they're going to act, they will, and I will knock them out with my needles."

Shorter hesitated. His eyes traveled up the building. Ash and Sing and the others were still inside. They couldn't stay there. _Fuck_.

"You can punch me in the face," Yut-Lung offered. "Tempting, I know."

Shorter's fist flew out. He grabbed Yut-Lung by his hair. Cold metal pressed against his throat.

 _Fuck—fuck—let go of my hair!_ Yut-Lung gagged, even though he wasn't being strangled, and he could tell Shorter was careful not to touch his side. _I didn't say you could touch my hair!_ Eiji yelped.

Yut-Lung felt Hua-Lung's arms around him, the satisfaction glittering in Wang-Lung's eyes when he choked him. " _Let's hope you at least have Lee family brain cells instead of your whore mother's."_

He kicked out, struggling. "Let _go of me!"_ The scream erupted from his throat before he could even think about what tone, what pitch, what words, to use. _Please just—let me go—_ He felt like he couldn't breathe. He could. But his lungs—why wouldn't they—why did air feel like fingernails scraping—

Shorter swore. Yut-Lung kicked his knee. He stumbled back. Eiji scrambled in front of him. The two men were there. Right above.

 _I'm free. I can breathe. He let go._

Yut-Lung felt the needles in his fingers. Autopilot. He was good at functioning on it, giving his brothers what they wanted.

The two men stepped past him, and he jammed the needles into their necks. No seeing, no awareness, just like what he had done to Eiji.

"Let's move," said Shorter instantly. "Eiji, call Ash. Yut-Lung!"

He craned his neck, gasping.

"Pain?" Shorter said.

"I'm not in pain." He just kept trying to breathe, to remind himself he could. He gripped his hair himself.

Shorter grabbed him by his elbow, yanking him to his feet. "Let's go. We're not waiting around to find out if they were alone."

* * *

Ash stepped through the door of the basement apartment they were crashing in, spotted Yut-Lung, and immediately crossed the floor in two steps. He grabbed the boy by his throat, throwing him back against the wall, exposing his tattoo just like Shorter had done when he'd first realized what Yut-Lung was.

But Yut-Lung maintained that calm face, like he didn't give a shit that someone who would very much like to kill him had him by the throat. Shorter wondered why Yut-Lung had screamed when he grabbed him earlier. If that was acting, that was good acting. But the brat had asked for Shorter to threaten him. Had he actually been afraid? Why?

"Yes?" Yut-Lung wheezed. "Thanking me for saving your—"

"I'm okay, Ash," Eiji interjected. His face was ashen. Shorter wondered how many times Eiji had seen Ash kill someone. Had to be a lot, at Golzine's mansion.

"You're double-crossing," Ash growled out. "I know it."

"I'm not surprised they sent people—but I didn't know—"

"He did ask for me to hold him hostage," said Shorter. "That's how we got them to attack us."

Ash hesitated. His eyes burned a green fire, and with that look he looked more like a fallen angel than the angel of light Shorter knew him as. He swore and let go of Yut-Lung. Yut-Lung rubbed his throat, mask undisturbed. Dim light shone through the apartment, shades drawn. Shorter didn't like that this was a basement. If Arthur found out where they were and ambushed them, they'd be fucked.

He wished he could call Nadia. But he didn't want to risk her. Not more than he already had. Would she approve him fighting the Lee clan, even with a Lee? Would she understand what he saw, that they were a brood of vipers?

"I don't trust you," Ash said. "Now we're stuck together until I can get—other arrangements—and this doesn't work for my advantage. It works for yours."

"Think what you want," said Yut-Lung. "I don't care."

Sing let out a barking laugh. Every eye in the room turned towards him. "You two are somewhat alike."

"What?" demanded Ash.

"I am nothing like this barbarian," said Yut-Lung, glaring.

" _Barbarian?"_ exclaimed Eiji. "He's not the one kidnapping people and tying them to beds!"

"He's the one who killed those two I incapacitated, or are you too naive to realize that?"

Eiji blanched. Shorter groaned. He knew Ash would not let them go. But Ash probably didn't want Eiji to know.

Sing's lips curved into a sneer. "You hate each other because you're like each other."

"Watch it," warned Ash as Yut-Lung fixed Sing with a look that would scare even Nadia, and that woman was scared of nothing.

"Whoa, chill!" Sing flung his hands up in the air, taking a few steps back. "Jesus, you guys can't take a joke. Even if it's, you know, not a joke."

"The fact that you two had the same reaction is not helping your case," Alex pointed out.

Now they both glared at him. Sing grinned.

 _Ash is not like Yut-Lung,_ Shorter thought. Ash was like an angel: a powerful one, unstoppable. Yut-Lung moved like a snake, low to the ground and ready to strike at any point in time. "You two are nothing alike."

"Thank you," they both said in unison. At that, Shorter had to bite back a laugh.

"Thanks for making my point for me," Sing said cheerfully. "Now I'm out of here. Got to warn my brother."

"Sorry my place isn't great," said Alex.

"It's fine."

 _This is all my fault, too_. Shorter gritted his teeth. He was tired of this already. Tired of being on the run. _Is this how you feel every day, Ash, with Dino on the loose?_

"What alternative arrangements are you making?" asked Yut-Lung.

"None of your business, because they don't include you."

Yut-Lung folded his arms around his knees. His flat expression stayed on, almost as if it was screwed in place. "I was going to say, I do have money smuggled away from my family, in a separate account. I could use that to help. If you wanted."

Sing froze at the door, turning to gape. Eiji's eyebrows pressed together. Shorter cocked his head.

"What?" asked Yut-Lung. "You don't think this plan against my brothers was thought up just yesterday, do you?"

"Not hardly," said Ash with a snort. "We're all just trying to figure out what you get from this."

"Being found and murdered by people doesn't help me accomplish my goals," Yut-Lung said. He played with the ends of his hair.

"I don't need it," Ash said. "I have enough from Dino. To buy a condo."

"I thought you hated him."

Ash flinched, turning away from them all and gripping the edge of the sink. "I do. But he still educated me. So I'll use that against him."

"My brothers gave me an education too," said Yut-Lung. "Not all the things you found out about Yau-Si were lies." He sounded almost proud.

"Hey, I finished high school too. Eiji's a college student, right?" Shorter asked, jerking his thumb.

"Kind of." Eiji shrugged.

"Did you go to school?" Yut-Lung asked.

"Yeah," Shorter said as Eiji nodded.

Yut-Lung closed his eyes. "I had tutors."

"Same," Ash said grumpily.

Sing snorted again. Both Ash and Yut-Lung crumpled their faces into disgust.

"Go study," Shorter told him.

"I dropped out."

"Drop back in."

Sing flipped him off as he jogged up the stairs. The door slammed behind him.

"Your money would be no better than Golzine's, anyways," Ash said. "I haven't forgotten what you almost did to Eiji. You think you're—"

Yut-Lung stiffened. He turned his face away. "I see. And you're so much better, you murderer."

" _Shut up,"_ Eiji said. "Please."

Shorter's thoughts raced around and around in his mind. His eyes again found the tattoo on Yut-Lung's neck. How old was he when he got that, marking him as a member of the ruling clan? Privilege forever stained on your skin.

Yut-Lung pulled his ponytail to cover the marking. "You don't have to say _please_ to be polite, Eiji. Just tell me you hate me. You'll feel better."

Eiji glanced at Shorter. "Would _you_ like you, if you were me?"

Yut-Lung got to his feet. "Just say it. You. Hate. Me."

"For God's sake, leave Eiji alone," Shorter said.

"Why? So you all can keep pretending someone among us is perfect? Anyone? You all hate me, and I don't care, but I don't want to pretend—"

"That's rich, considering everything you say is a lie!" Ash interjected.

" _I've_ never killed anyone," Yut-Lung shot back. Ash reached for his gun, his lips twisting in horror.

"No, you just stand back and let it happen. They're still dead." Eiji glared.

Ash hesitated. He couldn't look at Eiji.

Eiji's voice shook. "I don't hate you. I don't like you. You're judging Ash when—"

Yut-Lung gestured towards Shorter. "Not always." His chest heaved. "I don't always stand back or else this one would be dead, so you can stuff that fact up your—"

"Why not?" Shorter finally eked out.

Yut-Lung blinked.

"Why not?" Shorter repeated. "I'm sure we'd all like to know." He balled his fists, his worst suspicions clawing at his mind, howling inside his ears and deafening him. "Was it because you knew you could manipulate me? Was I an easy target? The perfect walking fucking doll for you?" His voice rose, ripping out from his throat. "I'd rather have died if—" _Did you think I was that weak? Am I?_

" _No_ ," snapped Yut-Lung. "It was because—" He stopped himself. "It doesn't matter." He turned towards a door that led to a tiny bedroom with a futon. "I'm lying down."

 _I keep making things worse._ Shorter dropped his head. Everything was going to hell and had been ever since a snake decided to sink its fangs into him.

He'd once seen a movie about zombies, where anyone bitten got infected with a virus that turned them into the living dead, a rambling monster. Yut-Lung was like that virus, and Shorter'd forgotten what it was like to be alive in certain ways. He'd forgotten what it was like to trust himself.

"Shorter," Eiji whispered. "None of us—blame you."

 _I do._ He had to. If he trusted people who did what he did, he wouldn't be alive. It was a reasonable fear. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I blame _him_ ," said Ash. "Not you."

"I can hear you!" hollered Yut-Lung.

"I know!" Ash yelled back.

"I made a choice too."

"To save Nadia. I can't fault you for that. I'd have done the same for Eiji, and Max for Michael or Jessica." Ash glared at the scraped floor. "Griffin would have done it for me."

 _And your father didn't_.

Shorter nodded. He headed for the kitchen. Time to brew some coffee, if Alex had any. It was all expired as of two years ago. He didn't care. "Ash."

Ash didn't respond.

The dark liquid trickled into the cup. "Griffin's death was not your fault."

Ash swore. "Doesn't matter. No matter what, it's a shit feeling."

Eiji watched them, his lips pressed together in a frown.

He could always take care of himself. Fight, take down threats before they attacked. And yet Ash was still protecting him.

That night, Shorter took the floor. Ash and Eiji took the couches. Even with a carpet, the floor was not comfortable. Some idiot decided to make the floorboards uneven underneath. _Who the hell does that?_

He heard a gasp and stiffened. His hand went to his pocket. But no. It was just Ash. Nightmares, maybe. His friend got to his feet, padding into the bathroom. Shorter heard the water running. And then a second pair of feet. Eiji.

Voices came low.

"I tried to forget. Former male prostitute, gang leader, and murderer, and I still get shaken up."

"Don't say that about yourself!"

"I was eight when I first killed a man."

Shorter winced. He felt like he shouldn't be hearing this. And yet. And yet, it wasn't new information, and still, it burned like a poison to hear it.

"I was raped. I was terrified. So scared, I couldn't find my voice. My heart was screaming for help, but I couldn't let out a single cry."

Shorter remembered what it felt like when Ash and Max left to help Jessica and Michael—how he wanted to say something, would have given anything to say something, but Yut-Lung Lee and his sister's life muffled his voice. But Nadia was not a burden.

Ash's voice trembled. "When I shot him, I cried. I cried because I felt nothing. I'm scared of myself. I don't know how much blood is on my hands. I don't feel anything. Nothing."

 _We can't feel anything,_ Shorter thought. Yut-Lung's accusation, smug though it was, echoed in his mind. _Murderer_. If they opened that door, like Yut-Lung had forced the door open with forcing his betrayal, it might all leak out. It still threatened to drown him.

"Ash, it's okay," Eiji insisted. "Calm down. You do feel it. You're hurt. Really hurt. I can tell. You saved me. My words might not mean anything now, but just remember one thing: even if the world turns on you, I'll always be by your side. I'll stay by your side. That is, if you don't mind."

"Stay by my side," Ash managed. "Even if it's not forever. Even if it's just for now."

"Forever," Eiji answered quietly.

Shorter squeezed his eyes shut. _Eiji, you're a saint. Or an angel, for an angel_.

Eiji really wasn't a part of their world. Yut-Lung wasn't wrong about that. But—because of that—there was only so much he and Ash could do for each other. Eiji knew Ash was a murderer, and he still embraced him.

 _And Ash, you're not afraid._ He wasn't just not afraid. He was—brave. With Eiji. Shorter wondered if he'd ever really seen his friend be brave before. He had now.

Long after Ash's sobs had quieted, Shorter pushed himself up. He couldn't sleep. He spotted Ash asleep on Eiji's lap and Eiji slumped against the back of the couch. And in the doorway to the bedroom sat Yut-Lung, awake, eyes wide. Shorter paused.

Yut-Lung almost looked like a child in that moment, staring in Eiji and Ash's direction. So he'd overheard them, too.

He met Shorter's gaze, and in the brief moment before he masked himself again, Shorter saw a silent scream.


	4. Kids

_Kids are sad, the sky is blue_

 _There are monsters in the spare bedroom_

 _Kids grow up, they move away_

 _They closed the plant and the mall arcade_

 _Kids are sad, their parents, too_

 _Kids get high in the spare bedroom_

 _We grow up and move away_

 _The seasons pass, but the monsters stay_

 _~"Kids," The Midnight_

* * *

Yut-Lung didn't sleep. He lay there with his side throbbing. _How can you just tell someone you were terrified like that? Or that you were raped? Or that you hate yourself? Why would you do that?_

And the part that niggled at him the most was that Eiji just accepted it, and somehow Yut-Lung knew he wouldn't use it against Ash. How could someone be so trustworthy? Such people could only exist because they were ignorant. Except Eiji had to know by now that Ash was not some innocent lamb, and he still promised him. _Forever_. Eiji made no fucking sense.

Yut-Lung never thought in _forevers_. He always thought in _nows_ , and _heres_ , and _soons_. He couldn't fathom the idea of it. Things changed, people shifted, Hua-Lung protected him from Wang-Lung's worst anger and then pushed him down on a bed, context mattered and people crept from shadow to shadow, because light was exhausting.

He woke up one night after having a nightmare he could no longer remember when he was five, and couldn't find his mother. He screamed for her, and she came running. " _I'm here. I'm always here."_

But they took her away less than a year later, and she was the one screaming that time, and he couldn't do anything to help her. It was then he learned not to scream. It only made her cry harder when he screamed for her at first, so he muffled the sound, swallowing it even though it felt like the screams would burst inside his throat.

 _Why you, Ash?_

 _How, Eiji?_

" _She thought the brat would keep her safe," Wang-Lung stated, drenched in her blood, a knife in his hand. He gestured to Yut-Lung, held back by one of his other brothers. He shook like a leaf in the middle of a storm, but he was silent, and he wasn't crying anymore._

 _Was I just insurance?_

He had to kill them. Make them feel that same helplessness, know that their name and their blood weren't enough to protect them.

He saw the same befuddlement he felt about Ash and Eiji on Shorter's face. But at least Shorter had his sister. No one would ever risk their own life to protect Yut-Lung.

Yut-Lung rose and found the comb he kept on him, dragging it over his scalp. He hoped his brothers thought of how much he looked like her, when he killed them. But he had to be subtle about it. He couldn't drive a knife in their hearts like he wanted to. He could never get everything he wanted.

He texted Sing. _Can you tell me what my brothers' movements are?_

 _How much will you pay me?_ came the response.

Yut-Lung threw his phone across the room.

"Temper tantrum now?" asked Shorter's voice.

Yut-Lung glowered at the man, who stood in the doorway.

"Well, that's a key difference between you and Ash," Shorter remarked. "I've never known him to take shit out on helpless objects."

"Just people?"

"Let's not pretend you don't do that." Shorter scowled.

"Are they still sleeping?" Yut-Lung asked.

"Yeah. And I'm not waking Ash up. He's a fucking lion when he wakes up."

Yut-Lung almost smiled. "Would coffee help?"

"Dunno." Shorter rubbed the top of his head.

"I don't understand," said Yut-Lung. "If he hates Golzine, why isn't he pretending to be his son like Golzine wants? I'm sure Golzine would leave Eiji and you and everyone alone then. And then he could murder him in his sleep."

Shorter cast him a repulsed look. "I'm sleeping with one eye open from now on."

Dammit, that was not what he meant. "I have no reason to kill you."

"Yet." Shorter shrugged. "Ash doesn't kill unless he needs to. He's not bloodthirsty. He's more cautious than me. Maybe too much sometimes. I'd have killed Arthur a long time ago. I told him to."

"Caution," said Yut-Lung. "Is not the reason he burned Golzine's mansion and is now stealing all Golzine's assets."

"Lives are different, to him." Shorter leaned back against the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets. "He's not going to go down without a fight, though. And he'll never just roll over for that piece of shit."

"You can fight when you stay close, too. Then they don't see it coming."

Shorter rolled his eyes. "That's slippery."

"Why? We have the same aim, don't we?" Yut-Lung leaned back. He winced. When would his side stop hurting? "People we hate will still die."

"I don't think he wants Golzine to think he won, even for a second," said Shorter. "Are you in pain?"

"I'm fine," he answered stiffly.

"You ever think that once you take over, you might be just like them?" Shorter asked.

"What?" Yut-Lung glared.

Shorter just glared back. "Aren't you planning on running a syndicate that will crush people and expect them to roll over and—"

"Isn't that what Ash does with his gang? You all seem pretty obsessed with staying loyal to him."

"He lets us choose," said Shorter. "Christ, he wasn't even angry with me. Not at all. _I'm_ more angry with me." He pressed his fingers against his sunglasses.

Yut-Lung swallowed. "You're all a bunch of sentimental fools, and it's going to get you killed."

"I'm not the one killing my own relatives. You should know that it'll get out eventually."

"It won't." Yut-Lung pressed against the Banana Fish in his pocket. "You and your sister… what's it like?"

"Huh?" Shorter lifted his glasses off his face.

"I mean, having a sibling relationship wherein you aren't all competing with each other and actually like each other."

"You don't—"

"You said it yourself once. I'm my family's dirty little secret. So what's it like to have a family where that's not the case?"

Shorter raised his eyebrows. "Why do I have the feeling that anything I say you'll use against me?"

Of course. "At the moment, I don't really feel like using anything against you. Been there, done that, plus you've promised to kill me if I do and while you killing me is preferable to my brothers doing it, I'd prefer to see to it that they die first so they don't have the satisfaction of knowing I'm dead."

Shorter gaped at him. "You need help."

Yut-Lung crossed his arms. "Never mind."

"No, it's—Nadia's great. More mature than me. She stepped in after my parents weren't around any more, even though she was still in high school. I think I drove her crazy by constantly sneaking out."

"I take it she doesn't approve of your career choice?"

Shorter snorted. "Nope. But as long as I showed up to help her at the restaurant, she tolerated it. Either way, she loves me. I'm her brother." He smirked. "She needs me to threaten anyone she dates."

"Isn't she dating that policeman?"

"Yeah. He treats her well, so I don't care." Shorter frowned. "She can't work at the restaurant right now, though. You know she put herself through community college to get a business degree? She always wanted to open a restaurant. And she did it, and then—"

 _I ruined everything_.

"Sorry," Yut-Lung said quietly.

"Huh?" Shorter cupped his hand around his ear. "I'm sorry, did you just apologize?"

Yut-Lung swallowed. "I am sorry. She sounds wonderful." Almost like his mother. "Have you spoken to her?"

Shorter's bravado fell away. He studied his sneakers, the ones with a fraying hole in them. "No."

"Are you afraid she'll be mad at you?"

"She'll slap me," Shorter confirmed.

"You're afraid she won't be, aren't you?" asked Yut-Lung. "Because you're mad at yourself." He pushed himself to his feet. "You shouldn't be. Ash isn't mad at you. Eiji isn't mad at you. Nadia won't be. You should be mad at _me_ , not at yourself. I'm the one who used you and played it out like a game."

Shorter rubbed his forehead. A small laugh emerged.

 _Huh?_ That was not the reaction Yut-Lung had expected.

"Every time I think I've figured you out, I can't," said Shorter. "Do you enjoy making other people feel stupid and confused?"

"Yes," admitted Yut-Lung.

Shorter actually guffawed this time. The sound rumbled through the room. When it reached Yut-Lung, he found himself smiling.

"You should talk to your sister," said Yut-Lung. "Tell her to hate me. Or maybe she'll thank me for taking away a lot of your direct power and influence. Gonna be hard to run gangs now. Charlie will be relieved."

Shorter pointed at him. "Don't push it."

Yut-Lung shrugged. He took a step and swore.

"You _are_ in pain." Shorter rolled his eyes.

"Pain is part of life."

"Okay, Drama Queen."

A groan erupted from the living room. "The fuck are you being so fucking loud for? Fuck."

The lion was awake. "Can you say fuck one more time?" called Yut-Lung.

"Fuck you!"

* * *

"Yo," said Shorter.

Nadia froze when she saw him, two grocery bags in her hands. She gaped.

He lifted his sunglasses off his face, giving a sheepish wave.

She raced towards him, throwing her arms around him. The bags swung, hitting him in the spine. "Ow!"

"You deserve that," she managed. "God, Shorter. You're _okay_."

 _You're okay_. Not even _I was so worried_. Just concern for him.

She pulled back. "God, I—"

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, taking the bags to carry inside. She rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean to put you in danger. That was never my intention."

"I know." Nadia locked the door behind them. Charlie's place was small and cramped, but it looked homey, a worn couch with dents in it, shoes scattered at the entrance, a counter lined with coffees and teas and used mugs piled in the sink. It reminded Shorter of the apartment he and Nadia grew up in. "You pissed off the Lees. I don't know if I'm horrified or proud."

"Nadia, they're—" Shorter rubbed his temples. "They're not—saviors or looking out for us." Though he was working with one Lee, who convinced him to come here today. Irrelevant.

In so many ways, Yut-Lung was nothing like his brothers seemed to be, and in many ways, he was actually worse.

"Charlie has us protected," said Nadia. She gestured towards a gun hooked in her jeans.

 _Shit_. He did not want to see his sister turned into a killer.

"You don't have to feel bad," said Nadia. "You know I think you're a dumbass, but I do trust you. If you're going up against the Lees, I know it isn't for some petty reason. I don't need to know details."

Shorter nodded. He studied his sneakers. They were so frayed that one of his toes would soon be poking out. "When we were in LA—"

"Oh God," said Nadia. "What the hell. LA?"

"Don't ask," said Shorter. "It's better if you don't know. They sent a Lee brother after me. They wanted me to betray Ash and Eiji. They made me kidnap Eiji. They threatened to kill you."

"Eiji the intern?"

"Yeah. He's Ash's—" Shorter wasn't sure what to say. What even was Eiji to Ash? Friend, but more, not a lover (yet), but more. "Friend." He dropped down into the oak chair at the small kitchen table, burying his face in his hands. "I kidnapped him."

Of course, he'd killed countless people. But he hadn't known them.

 _Someone did._

"You were forced to," said Nadia. "But don't ever kidnap someone in my name again."

"I'm not letting them kill you. Or Eiji. Or anyone."

Nadia put on a kettle. "You don't have to be so strong all the time, Shorter."

"Stop acting like a parent."

"Stop acting like one yourself," she retorted. They both smiled, but Shorter's chest ached. "You can fail, you know."

 _Ehhhh… no_. The life he'd chosen didn't really allow for that. Not when the consequences were not going to fall on him so much as they'd fall on his loved ones.

 _It'll get you killed,_ Yut-Lung had said. It almost sounded like a warning. How strange. Shorter remembered the strange look in Yut-Lung's eyes when he listened to Ash and Eiji the night before.

 _No one knows who you are, do they, Yut-Lung?_

* * *

Sing scowled as he accompanied Yut-Lung through the streets. Since Shorter begged off to see his sister, he was on potential Yut-Lung assassination duty. Not that he planned to. Yut-Lung didn't seem very interested in anything at all though. Not besides wandering like a lost cat.

Sing yawned. "Let's go back. I want to talk to Ash."

Yut-Lung glowered as he sat on a bench. "Why?"

"Because he's cool."

"I thought you said we were the same." Yut-Lung tilted his head back. "So why do you look up to Ash but look at me like I'm a snake?"

Sing pressed his lips together. _Because you are? Everyone knows not to trust you_? "Ash can be warm. You wouldn't be warm if you were on fire."

Yut-Lung almost smiled. "You're not afraid of me."

"Nope," Sing agreed.

"Why not?" Yut-Lung asked.

Sing shrugged. "I don't feel like it. You're spoiled but you're like what, two years older than me?"

"How old are you?"

"What, you don't have files on everyone?" Sing rolled his eyes and dropped down next to Yut-Lung. "I'm fourteen."

"Two years," Yut-Lung confirmed. "How's your brother?"

"He's acting like an out-of-control edgelord," Sing replied.

"So are you going to do anything about it?"

"I can't control him," said Sing. "Wish I could."

Yut-Lung frowned. "My brothers tried to orchestrate my every move. They'd reprogram my brain if they could."

"Like a robot?" Sing imitated one with stiff movements.

Yut-Lung snorted. "Still not enough for them. They think I'm not worth it because my mother was not their mother, even though we all have the same amount of our father's genes."

"That's weird," commented Sing. "Yen-Thai and I don't see things that way." He couldn't imagine looking down on his brother for that. He was his brother regardless.

"It is _weird_ ," Yut-Lung said. "I think I'm starting to get that, at least." He laced his fingers together. "What do you think of Eiji?"

"Huh?" Sing shrugged. "I don't, really. He and Ash are friends, but—"

"I see," said Yut-Lung. "You're like him in some ways."

"Oh great," complained Sing. "Is this payback for me saying you and Ash are the same last night? Because you are, and I'll say it again."

"No," said Yut-Lung. "Things are about to get bad, you know. With Ash and Arthur, and if Ash really gets Black Sabbath involved, and—"

"We're going to back Ash," said Sing.

"Stay neutral," Yut-Lung said. "Covert support, but—"

"What?" Sing glanced at him. "I'm not doing that."

"Worry about the lives of your gang."

"I am. I genuinely think Ash is the best chance. Arthur doesn't stand a chance. All he's got going for him is that he's meaner than Ash and he'll use that if he can." Sing scowled. "That's why it's good you're here. You're meaner than him and you can predict him because you try to read everyone."

Yut-Lung blinked. "Oh." His face fell. "Yeah."

 _What'd I say?_ Sing didn't get this kid at all.

Yut-Lung got to his feet, cringing. "I'm going to take a walk. You don't need to follow."

"I have to."

"We both know you're not going to kill me, and I wouldn't give you a reason to anyways."

Sing rolled his eyes. "You know what's funny? You'd probably die without me here, or Shorter, or Ash and Eiji. Do you have the slightest idea how to take care of yourself outside of your cushy house? You're just a baby."

Yut-Lung backhanded him across the face.

Sing gaped. His cheek stung. And then his hand lashed out. "Same to you, buddy!"

"Hey!" shrieked Yut-Lung. He reached for Sing, who grabbed his hair and yanked. Yut-Lung froze.

 _Shit_. Sing dropped his hair. "You realize this makes you an easy target, right? You should cut it."

Yut-Lung flinched.

"You can't give something and not expect to get it back," Sing said.

Yut-Lung said nothing. He turned to storm off, and Sing let him go, because he didn't know what to say. _Why did you freak out like that when I grabbed your hair, and when Shorter grabbed it yesterday?_

 _Why do you think you're so special, anyways? Grow up._

Sing cussed and headed back to the apartment. He found Yut-Lung already there, working on calligraphy on a dumb yellow pad of paper as if nothing had happened. Eiji cast a nervous glance at the other boy. Ash was out. Probably doing nothing Eiji would approve of, like preparing for a gang war.

"Why are you here?" asked Yut-Lung. "You're not staying here."

"Don't make me bitch slap you again."

"I'll slap you back."

"I mean, that's what I did." Sing rolled his eyes. "I want to ask Ash what kinds of knives he fights with." It wasn't true, though it was true he was waiting around to see Ash and hoped that Ash would approve of his guarding Yut-Lung all day. But saying this would piss off Yut-Lung.

Both Eiji and Yut-Lung glared at him then. _Shit, bad thing to say._

Ash and Shorter arrived back around the same time. Shorter at the very least seemed more talkative than he had been.

"He was okay?" Ash asked, glaring at Yut-Lung.

"Yes," said Sing. "I mean, he slapped me. So I slapped him."

Shorter rolled his eyes. Ash snorted. Eiji sighed.

"So Ash," said Sing. "I was wondering. Are you planning on fighting Arthur yourself?"

Ash gave him a sidelong glance. "If I have to. I'd prefer to do it one-on-one, yeah."

"You beat him before, right? When you marked his fingers?"

Shorter and Ash exchanged a glance. "Sort of. He yanked a gun on me after I was already walking away. That's a shit move. You don't hurt someone when their back is turned."

"Unless they're already hurting someone," said Shorter.

"Why not?" asked Yut-Lung.

"Why at all?" demanded Eiji.

Sing's phone rang. He used the excuse to duck out and stroll home. "Yen-Thai?"

"Did you hear the news?" his brother demanded.

Sing's heart pounded. The wind blew slightly colder. He tightened his jacket around himself. "No. What happened?"

"One of the middle Lee brothers had a heart attack while driving, and hit a pole, and now one of the other ones is dead and the one who had a heart attack is in surgery but it isn't looking good." His brother's voice came quick, anxious. "Are you involved in this?"

"Hell no," Sing snapped. He stopped, peering up at the towering city, lights flashing and glowing from apartments and offices still open. _But I have a pretty good guess who is._


	5. Waiting for Superman

_Nothing's making sense_

 _She's been chasing an answer_

 _A sign lost in the abyss, this metropolis_

 _~"Waiting for Superman," Daughtry_

* * *

"She said she'd skin me if I waited so long before talking to her again," Shorter said. "Her trust has limits." He rested against the wall. Ash was gone, and the news was full of stories of gang fighting, of members being gunned down in cold blood and being left on the rainy fall streets of New York. He'd been staying at the condo Ash had bought, right by Dino's business like he wanted to rub it in. The room was sprawling with thick cushioned couches and throw pillows. Despite the clouds, light spilled through the glass windows. It was hardly the sort of room he could afford to breathe air in, and yet Yut-Lung had once remarked how cramped it was, though an improvement over the first place.

"Good," said Yut-Lung. "Of course, she does not mean it."

"Oh, she does." Shorter snickered.

Yut-Lung paused, and then laughed with him.

 _Did you really not get it was a joke_? Shorter wondered about the supposed heart attack from the Lee brothers. He knew Yut-Lung was involved somehow, but he couldn't figure out how. Probably for the best, except he didn't like thinking that even under constant watch Yut-Lung was capable of his own designs. But Shorter had his own issues to focus on. Like last night, when Ash shot a man who had thrown down his gun.

" _Please, don't shoot!"_

And Ash shot him anyways. Like Shorter would have told him to. And yet Shorter hadn't opened his mouth, and he felt no pride. It was necessary. But it sucked, and something felt sticky against his throat when he looked at Eiji as the boy attempted to make pumpkin bread.

"Shorter?" called Eiji.

Yut-Lung scowled. Shorter turned around, perched on the arm of a couch. "Yeah?"

"What would you be for Halloween, if you could dress up?"

"Myself," said Shorter. "Or, a waiter." He winked.

Eiji laughed. "I was thinking of having a party for Ash. To cheer him up. For Halloween. I mean, just a few of us. Alex, Bones, you, me. And Sing and you." He gestured half-heartedly towards Yut-Lung.

"I can feel just how badly you want me there," Yut-Lung said sarcastically.

"You'd make a good vampire," Shorter told him.

Yut-Lung's face fell. "Because I suck people dry? Drain the life out of them?"

Shorter stared. "I was talking about your long black hair, but okay, you said it, not me."

"Oh." Yut-Lung blinked. "I'd rather be a ghost."

"I didn't picture you as someone to hide behind a sheet."

"I'd like to be invisible and still able to haunt the people I hate."

"I'm not sure you understand the point of a costume, or Halloween in general," Shorter said.

Yut-Lung shifted. "It was a joke."

That was a lie and a terrible one by Yut-Lung's standards, but Shorter didn't care. It didn't really matter.

"We have to get pumpkins," said Eiji.

"Aren't you baking them right now?"

"No, jack o'lanterns." Eiji drew in his breath. "Trust me."

"Does this have anything to do with the fact that Ash is afraid of them?" asked Yut-Lung. "I heard you teasing him."

Eiji's eyes narrowed.

"Facing his fears is a good thing," said Yut-Lung. "What a good friend you are. Don't worry. That's hardly an exploitable weakness."

 _You just_ had _to be a bitch._ Shorter rolled his eyes. _Afraid of pumpkins._ This was good. Shorter turned to Eiji. "We'll get _all_ the pumpkins."

Eiji grinned.

"Can I go out?" asked Yut-Lung. "There's something I need to get." He looked to Shorter. "Or do you trust me yet to go out on my own?"

"It's not up to me." Shorter waved to Eiji.

"Why do you always do what Ash tells you?" Yut-Lung grumbled as they headed to the elevator. He didn't seem to be in pain anymore, now that it was a few weeks later. His mood, unfortunately, hadn't improved.

"I don't," said Shorter. "He's my friend. And stop trying to drive a wedge. I know what you're doing."

Yut-Lung folded his arms and set his jaw. "Fine."

"It's your choice to stay here." The elevators dinged. They got on and the small box began to sink.

"What are my other options?" Yut-Lung asked. "Die?" He leaned his head back. "If I was going to betray you, wouldn't I have done it already?"

"I don't know. You seem the type to bide your time."

The elevator stopped. The doors opened, light flooding the car. "I wasn't trying to drive a wedge between you," Yut-Lung said. "I really don't understand. Your sister forgiving you, that I understand. Ash is different. I don't understand, no matter how much Sing insists we're the same." He glanced at Shorter as they headed outside. "Do _you_ think we're the same?"

"No," Shorter answered honestly. Ash was sun; Yut-Lung was moon. Ash was fire and Yut-Lung was ice. Ash wore his heart on his sleeve and if Yut-Lung had a heart, he carefully concealed it inside a box, inside another box, inside another box, inside a locked safe.

"Why not?" Yut-Lung persisted. He flagged a cab.

"We can walk," Shorter said, the wind whipping through his mohawk.

"We're going somewhere not in walking distance."

"Where?" Shorter asked as he slid into the backseat of the cab.

"You'll see."

Suspicion began to bite down on Shorter's shoulders. His hand slipped towards his pocket. The driver didn't look Chinese, at least.

"Why don't I remind you of Ash?" asked Yut-Lung.

"I almost thought you were Eiji at first, remember?" said Shorter. "Innocent, kind. Looking for the good in life. But you're none of those things. And you don't encourage people to be themselves like Ash. Or care like Ash. You asked."

Yut-Lung's face was stiff. He glanced down at his folded hands. "I see."

 _Did that hurt you?_ Shorter blinked. Something like guilt tugged at his lungs. "Then again, you asked me to talk to Nadia, so you must have a heart somewhere." He felt dirty, now. As if his words, instead of smearing Yut-Lung, had smeared himself. But they were true, weren't they? Did it matter?

Yut-Lung swallowed. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be alive."

 _You'd be a ghost_.

"Ash… takes risks," said Shorter, trying to dig himself out of the hole. "You don't. You're afraid to."

Yut-Lung glared now.

"With people," Shorter added, feeling the hole get deeper. "He's risking a lot, trusting me again. And letting you stay."

"I don't think he's risking a lot," said Yut-Lung, studying Shorter. He felt his face heat and lifted his sunglasses. "You're about the most trustworthy person I've ever met. You figured out a way to protect both Eiji and your sister. They weren't the ones you put at risk. You put yourself at risk." The car slowed, pulling to the side of the curb. "Though, I suppose, I do take less risks. That makes me smarter and less likely to die soon."

"Or more likely to get a knife in your back someday."

"Maybe." Yut-Lung paid the driver.

Shorter scrambled out. _Really? A mall_? "Expensive enough for you?"

"I prefer quality over cheap substitutes. Life afforded me few luxuries so forgive me for liking what I can get." Yut-Lung strode through. A marble floor glinted under a glass ceiling. He ducked into a shoe shop. The smell of leather and cardboard filled the air.

"Heels?" Shorter asked him sarcastically. "Or what do ghosts wear?"

Yut-Lung waved to a salesman, who hurried over. "He needs new sneakers." He pointed to Shorter's worn ones.

 _What?_ Shorter opened his mouth.

"I see. What a nice girlfriend you have," commented the salesman.

 _Girlfriend?_ Shorter was about to protest before he saw Yut-Lung's shoulders shaking and realized he was laughing.

Well, if it was actually making Yut-Lung laugh, he might as well play it up. "Thank you, _baby_ ," he ground out, wrapping an arm around him.

Yut-Lung tried to swallow a laugh and failed. He was actually smiling. How strange. "I am serious. I am paying for it." He gestured.

 _Are you trying to buy my friendship? You are, aren't you?_

 _Or is friendship something that you also genuinely don't understand? Are you that lonely?_

It was a lame attempt on Yut-Lung's part, but it was an attempt. A risk.

 _No,_ Shorter thought. It wasn't lame.

* * *

They arrived back at the condo to find Eiji watching the news coverage of the gang violence. Yut-Lung noticed the wideness of Eiji's eyes.

 _Are you going to run?_

 _Run. Run. Prove it_. _Prove that you're the same!_

 _Don't you see? Don't you see what he is?_

 _What am I?_

Yut-Lung went back to his room, staring out the window. His stomach felt like it was bubbling, but he wasn't nauseated, not really. He pressed his forehead against the glass. It felt cold. He pulled back and realized his reflection was smiling.

It'd been fun. Kind of like what he imagined it would be like to hang out with friends. Not that he'd ever really thought much about that, but this was—it was nice. He liked it. And that clueless salesman had only provided laugh after laugh. But at least Shorter found a pair of shoes.

He checked his phone. Texts from Hua-Lung, desperate for funeral plans, and for him to barge in on Ash and take the Banana Fish forcibly. _I can't,_ he typed back. _That would be stupid. Trust the training, that's what Wang-Lung always says. And it's working._

He turned the phone off.

"Yut-Lung," said a voice from his doorway.

Ash. Arms folded, clad in a green sweatshirt, a muddier hue than his eyes.

"Yes?" Yut-Lung asked. _Do you want a new pair of shoes too?_ "If you're going to ask me to accompany you on a killing spree tonight, I'm not the sort to fire a gun."

Ash's gaze flickered. He stormed in, shutting the door.

"Oh," said Yut-Lung. "I see. I'm unarmed. If the door's closed Eiji can't—"

Ash grabbed him by the throat, shoving him back against the wall.

 _What is it about my throat?_

"Don't you dare," Ash managed. "Play your games here, okay?"

"What game am I playing? You don't keep Snakes and Ladders lying around."

Ash glared at him. "What, are you trying to bribe Shorter or—"

"Genuinely no," Yut-Lung said, heart thudding. "Also, your grip isn't tight enough. If you're going to grab someone's throat, you should do it like you mean it."

"Motherfucker." Ash let go and stepped back. His chest heaved. He looked down at his own shows, jaw clenched.

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" asked Yut-Lung, leaning back against the bed. He rubbed his throat, feeling his voice box vibrating when he spoke, his pulse beating, blood warm under the skin.. "Or rather, you do. But you don't want to commit to it. Going around and murdering unarmed people—we all know it, you know. He knows it. You hate doing it and you hate yourself for it. You hate that you're capable of it. Did you really think yourself better than that? Are you projecting your fears of yourself onto me?"

"Shut the fuck _up_." Ash gripped his head.

"Here's my advice," said Yut-Lung, glaring at Ash. "Commit. Let the chips fall where they may. Or is that Japanese boy a chip you don't want to fall away?"

"I am—"

"You're _not,"_ Yut-Lung interrupted. "You never have been. You've always been hoping for some superhero to fly in and save you. Some superhero, the one who bakes—"

"Don't bring Eiji into this again!"

"Well," Yut-Lung allowed, leaning back. "You may have figured yourself the superhero, but you're not, are you? That's what this latest Golzine incident showed you."

"Please shut up."

"You can leave any time," Yut-Lung said. He flicked his hair, gesturing towards the door.

"No," Ash said, voice harsh. "I can't. Commit, right?"

 _To your friends. You're here to protect them._ A surge of rage hit Yut-Lung. _Why._

 _Why do you still hope? Still? I don't understand!_

"Or do you want to die?" Yut-Lung said. "Do you want someone to eviscerate you, let you bleed out? I'd volunteer, but Shorter and Sing wouldn't like that."

"Why are you being nice to Shorter and acting like a snake here?" Ash demanded. " _This_ is why I don't trust you."

Yut-Lung stared at him. _Why._

 _Why indeed._

He didn't know. He tried to grasp an answer, and none came. Air flooded his lungs, but it was empty. A laugh broke through his lips, crinkling like broken glass. " _I_ don't trust me," he sputtered.

 _I don't know. I don't have any idea._

"Don't betray him," Ash said, voice ragged. "If you have to kill someone, kill me. I know you're plotting something, and I'll figure it out eventually, but—all I ask, since you saved his life once, is that you take mine instead if you have to take someone's. Because I'll kill you if you try."

 _You really are so eager to die, aren't you_?

 _I hate it. I want you to live. I want you to die. I want you to live so that I can live, so that I can hate you, I want you to die because I want to sleep too, and I want to rest and I—can't_.

 _We're doomed, aren't we?_

 _We're trapped. Like rats in a cage._

"I'm not going to betray any of you," said Yut-Lung. "I'm here for my own reasons, which I've already told you."

Ash curled his lips and turned on his heel, storming out. Yut-Lung heard the front door. Probably off to kill more people. And hate himself more for it.

* * *

Eiji heard footsteps outside, the solid ones he knew belonged to Ash. The doorknob turned.

"You're still up?" Ash asked.

"You're back." Eiji closed his book. His stomach clenched as he remembered the news reports that interrupted the story he was trying to read. "You're out late these days."

"Got stuff to do." Ash yawned. "I'm beat."

He saw it then, and he wanted to scrub his eyes out. "There's blood on your shirt."

Ash stiffened. "What are you trying to say?"

"Did you do this?" Eiji slid the phone towards him. "It says the victims had thrown their weapons away but were still shot. Shot precisely between the eyes. I don't want to believe it, but only you could do such a thing."

"So what?"

"So what? Why are you doing this? You're not the kind of guy who'd shoot an unresisting person." _You hate that kind of thing. I know you do._

"Who do you think I am?" Ash's tone sounded cold, unfamiliar. It almost had traces of Yut-Lung in it. "I told you, I'm a murderer. They shot my friends to save themselves. They're paying for what they did. "

 _Ash, stop! Please!_ He needed to get through to him. "Sure, the strong can say that. But not everyone is gifted with a talent like you."

"A talent?" Ash laughed, and the sound cut at Eiji. "For what, killing?"

"Why do you keep saying that? You're not like other people! You don't get how ungifted people feel!"

"I've had it with you!" Ash leaped to his feet. "You wanna let them run free so they can kill us? It's not about reasoning. Power is everything. That's the world I live in! What would you know about it?

 _Shit. Think, think._ "I don't," he managed." I'd probably be dead by now in your world. But I have to say it. You're not being yourself right now. Not the Ash that Skip, Shorter, and I know!" He froze. "Where are you going?"

Ash paused by the door. "You said I don't know how ungifted people feel. Then do you understand how I feel? I've never wanted this gift, not once in my entire life!"

"Ash!" _What did I do?_ Eiji grasped his forehead.

 _I can't stop you._

 _Ash, please…_

"Feel badly?" asked a voice.

Eiji jumped.

Yut-Lung stood there, draped in a robe. "Couldn't sleep."

 _And you heard that._

"Don't think he liked you accusing him of being me," said Yut-Lung. "How horrible for him. Shooting the unarmed is the best way, you know, to ensure you don't get shot."

Eiji swallowed a lump in his throat. It stung. "You're horrible and trying to provoke me."

"Fair."

"I heard it, too," said a grumpy voice. Shorter appeared, dressed in a jacket and with his new sneakers on. He gulped as he looked at Eiji.

"You were with him," Eiji said. His shoulders slumped. His bones felt weighed down by guilt he couldn't take upon himself, but wanted to, if only to spare them.

"Tea?" asked Yut-Lung, glancing at Shorter. His face suddenly looked less like a viper. His jaw softened.

 _We're talking about murder in cold blood and you—_

"He'll be out all night now," said Shorter. "He doesn't like fighting with people he likes."

Eiji moaned.

"Do _you_ feel badly at all?" Yut-Lung asked Shorter as the two of them followed him into the kitchen. "For killing unarmed people. Does it bother you, Eiji? That Shorter kills them too?"

"Yes," Eiji answered, honestly.

Shorter blinked. "Why? I'm not Ash."

"You're a friend," Eiji whispered. _I'm so useless._

"Oh." Shorter leaned back against the counter.

"Let me ask you something," said Yut-Lung, setting on the kettle. He turned to Eiji, the kitchen's bright lights shining against his hair. "If you saw Golzine walking the street, if you knew he would never stop trying to get Ash—because he won't—and he wasn't armed, would you kill him? Or didn't you already try, the three of you, when Ash shot him?"

Eiji paled.

"You can't save him," said Yut-Lung, glancing away, towards the steam rising from the kettle.

"That's not what I'm trying to do," said Eiji. "I just—I don't want to lose him." He dropped onto the kitchen chair, burying his face in his arms. Something hot ran down his face. Tears. _Ash, please don't die._

 _You give me hope. If that's selfish, I'll be selfish._

"Why not?" asked Yut-Lung. "I mean, I don't understand how caring about someone works; I think we've long since established that. You tell me."

"Because—because—I _do,"_ Eiji eked out. He lifted his face, sniffling. Shorter said nothing.

Because it felt like he was wandering around, limping through a clouded world towards a gray horizon, and then Ash was like the sun. He fought. Eiji didn't know how to fight.

 _I just wish you knew how to stop._

 _I just wish you_ could _stop._

 _I hate it. I hate this world. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. Ash, Ash, I want—I don't want you to hurt or be hurt, not anymore._

 _I want to walk with you, forever._

Ash saved him.

"You could ask this one to make him stop," said Yut-Lung, pointing to Shorter.

"No," said Eiji, lifting his head. "I couldn't." He glanced at Shorter. "I want him to make his own choices. He's going to make them anyways, and I don't—I wish he didn't have to fight."

"Well, he does."

"Do you?" asked Eiji, studying Yut-Lung. This was by far the most human Yut-Lung had ever seemed to him.

"You want him to leave that world?" Yut-Lung asked, ignoring the question. The tea kettle began to shriek. Shorter covered his ears. "That won't happen. He's too afraid and he doesn't think he deserves to."

 _I left my world_.

 _It's hard. I'm scared. But there was nothing for me there._

 _Ash, I want to show you. We can figure it out together, can't we_?

He could make a step, and hope Ash would step out to meet him.


	6. Silence

_I'm in need of a savior, but I'm not asking for favors_  
 _My whole life, I've felt like a burden_  
 _I think too much, and I hate it_  
 _I'm so used to being in the wrong, I'm tired of caring_

 _Loving never gave me a home, so I'll sit here in the silence_

 _~"Silence," Marshmallow_

* * *

"He's probably at the library," Shorter told Eiji. "That's where he goes when he wants to be alone."

Eiji nodded. His head throbbed from staying awake almost all night. _Ash…_

He shouldn't have yelled like that. Or used Skip to manipulate. He couldn't force Ash to be anything other than he was, and he didn't want to. But he wanted Ash to stay. _I don't want you to slip away._

He'd spent his entire life defining himself by his accomplishments. First. Second. Fourth only once. Higher and higher, a centimeter more, a millimeter, a new goal and a new aim. And when his ankle crunched and the pain grabbed him like the jaws of an animal, he realized he was falling even as he lay on a mat, staring up at the sky, and there was nothing to break his fall, not even the ground. He would just keep falling and falling, because there was nothing to aim for.

But Ash didn't care about how incompetent he was at being a part of his world. He didn't care that Eiji's naivete kept getting him in trouble. He just cared about Eiji.

 _I don't know if I ever had that before._

Even with Ibe-san, Eiji had been trying to earn it. Earn his internship opportunity, prove he wasn't useless after blowing out his ankle, but he couldn't.

It wasn't even Ibe-san's fault. It was Eiji's.

 _Why do I cage myself?_

 _I'm afraid to live_.

But he could apologize to Ash, and he knew Ash would accept him. Still.

He spotted Ash's blond head at one of the reference desks. He looked like any other student. Eiji's breath caught. Ash was smart. He wished… he wished…

Eiji stopped in front of him, managing a sheepish smile. "Hey. You knew I was here. Don't pretend you didn't."

Ash turned away.

 _Yup, still mad._ Eiji dropped down into the chair across from him. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have said all that.

Ash looked at him like he had two heads. "Japanese are quick to apologize, huh? Ibe apologized too."

"You spoke to him?" Eiji yelped, springing to his feet.

"Shh!" scolded a cacophony of voices.

 _Oops_. Eiji rubbed the back of his neck, face flushing. Ash looked as if he was suppressing a laugh. He shook his head, gesturing for Eiji to follow him out.

"I talked to Shorter and Yut-Lung," Eiji said as he trotted after Ash.

"Oh?" Ash arched his eyebrows.

"Yeah. Yut-Lung was being his bratty self, but he almost seemed like he was trying to be helpful in a sense, too."

Ash bought them both hot dogs, telling him it was a natto-hot dog. Eiji decided not to comment.

"Did he tell you I'm just like him, shooting people who aren't even armed?" Ash gave Eiji a smirk, but his eyes looked like grass on a cloudy day.

"Pretty much," Eiji said, swallowing.

 _You hate him because you're like him_ , Sing had said.

Ash blew his breath out. His hair blew up, golden strands sparkling in the sun.

"I don't think you're anything like him," Eiji whispered.

"Why not?" Ash demanded. "I am doing—exactly what you said. Exactly what he said." He hung his head. "What exactly makes me any better?"

Eiji caught his breath. The chilled autumn air nibbled at his ears. He put his hand on Ash's shoulder. "Does it matter?"

"Huh?" Ash glanced at him.

"If you aren't different," said Eiji. "And I still think you are, but if you aren't—you're still my friend."

Ash gaped at him. He blinked. "Don't you hate him, though?"

"He's not one of my favorite people," Eiji agreed.

"But—" Ash paused. "I don't want you to—I don't want to be like him."

"You don't have to be," Eiji said. "You _don't_ , Ash. I want you to live. I don't want you to kill. It's hurting you, too, and it's hurting me, and it's hurting other people."

"If you want to live, then go back to Japan," Ash said. "It's the safest—"

"Would you stop that!" Eiji shouted. "Safety—it's not living! I want—Japan was smothering me. Ibe-san—Ibe-san—he saw it. I couldn't get out of bed in the morning some days and it had nothing to do with my body and everything to do with—I saw no point. But you—you're fighting to live and you're also fighting to die, aren't you?"

Oh no. He was yelling again. Eiji cringed. "I'm sorry, I—"

Ash regarded him. "Is that what Yut-Lung said?"

"He's not wrong!"

"He won't let me go," Ash said. He looked up at the sky, a sharp azure, the kind of hue that was only visible in autumn. "He won't let me go, Eiji. No matter what I do, he won't let me go, because I'm too _talented_. And what he wants he gets. I'd rather die than let him get me again. Or you. Or Shorter, or Max, or Ibe, or— _anyone_."

Shame bit his stomach. "I'm sorry," Eiji whispered again. "Part of you doesn't want to let go either, though."

Ash glanced at him. His Adam's apple bobbed. "True."

 _Is this for your brother? Do you hate yourself for not being able to save him? To save Skip?_

 _Do you hate yourself for not being able to save yourself?_

 _Ash, it wasn't your fault._

 _I wish you could believe that._

 _I want to believe it about me._

"Okay then," Eiji said, swallowing. "I said I'd stay by your side. Forever."

"I said it didn't have to be forever."

"Well, _I_ said forever." Eiji stuck his chin in the air.

"Are you going to eat that?" Ash pointed to the hot dog.

"Oh." Eiji winced. "Well, I—"

Ash shoved it up into Eiji's face. He yelped. Sauce smeared his eyebrows, his cheeks. When he blinked his vision clear, he saw Ash grinning.

 _Ash, I just want you to be safe._

 _You feel the same, don't you?_

"Fine," Eiji managed. He wiped his ace with his palm and smeared the ketchup into Ash's hair.

"Hey!"

Eiji spotted an elderly couple watching them as he chased Ash around the parking lot. The lady smiled at them. To her, they must look just like ordinary teenagers.

 _That's what I want for you, Ash. To be ordinary._

 _If you're ordinary, I wouldn't mind being the same._

* * *

Sing swore as he read Yen-Thai's message. He closed his eyes, leaning back.

Goddammit. He dragged himself to his feet, marching over to Ash's condo. He pounded on the door. "It's me."

Bones let him in.

"Where's Shorter?" Sing asked.

"His sister's," replied the man.

"Is Yut-Lung with him?"

"No, he's in his room."

 _God fucking dammit._ Sing marched towards Yut-Lung's room and flung the door open. Yut-Lung didn't even flinch as he worked on calligraphy. Sing marched over and ripped the sheet of paper off the pad.

"Hey!" Yut-Lung exclaimed. "That's rude, Sing Soo-Ling!"

Sing crumpled up the paper, ink staining his hands. He glared at the door, and then kicked it shut.

"Is something the matter?" Yut-Lung asked. His eyes stayed wide, a slight smirk on his lips.

"Drop your mask," Sing ordered. He ripped the paper into shreds. "Two more your brothers fell ill. One had an overdose that's left him with irreparable brain damage because of the shock of his other brother's deaths, and another has the flu, or so the rumor has it."

Yut-Lung's expression didn't change. He didn't even flinch. "Is that so?"

"Don't play pretend," Sing snapped. " _Don't_ fucking lie to me."

"I said I was going to kill them," Yut-Lung said. "You knew it. I knew it. You didn't say it was a problem." He frowned. "How would it be a problem?"

"You're not using cocaine or cutting the brakes or giving them the flu, are you?" asked Sing. "I went to see the brother with the flu. He looks like a brainless puppet."

Yut-Lung plucked a loose thread from his teal shirt. "And?"

"You still have it, don't you?" Sing asked. "The Banana Fish. All that—about not having it—it was a lie. You're using it on them, to make them do what you want. And you're dragging it out so Hua-Lung and Wang-Lung will be scared out of their fucking minds."

Yut-Lung's chest heaved. "I knew you were smart."

"Jesus Christ," said Sing.

"They trapped in a nightmare," said Yut-Lung. "My mother knew the noose was tightening the moment my father fell ill. Now they can feel it." He curled his fist around the inkwell.

"Your mother?" Sing didn't understand. "Look, things are starting to get out. You—"

"Does it matter that I lied about that?" asked Yut-Lung. "I knew they would never trust me otherwise."

Sing's mouth went dry. Why do you care about that? Yut-Lung would probably slap him if he even suggested he cared about it, but here he was blatantly admitting to it like the contradictory hot mess he was. "Well, lying is hardly a way to make them trust you, dimwit."

Yut-Lung scowled. He flipped his hair over his shoulder. "Are you going to tell Ash? And Shorter, and Eiji?"

"So what if I do?"

Yut-Lung's knuckles turned white. The inkwell had to be close to cracking. "They'll be angry."

"So? Don't you not care?"

"I—"

Sing placed his palm on the desk, bringing his face close to Yut-Lung's. The other boy's eyes had a violet hue to them. "Why?"

"I told you. I wanted them to—"

"Why did you want them to?"

Yut-Lung frowned. He turned away in a huff. "I don't see how it's relevant."

"Tell me or I tell them."

Yut-Lung raised his hand. Sing caught his wrist.

"You're doing it to protect them?" Sing panted. "You are, aren't you? I didn't figure you for the sentimental type. But you _like_ them, don't you? You want friends and you want to make sure that you don't mess up and put them at risk."

Yut-Lung yanked his arm away. He backed up, hunching his shoulders. "No. I just want my brothers to think I'm working with them when I'm not. I want to hurt them. I want to scare them. I hate them and I want them to know that."

"That's a fucking dumb motivator, and you're a bad liar."

"I'm not lying!"

"Yes, you are. You want to be everyone's friend here but—"

"I do not!"

"Okay, brother then. You wanna be everyone's little brother."

"I _do not!"_ Yut-Lung shrieked.

"I think you do," Sing sang. "So the snake turned out to be a puppy. Aw."

Yut-Lung lunged at him again. Sing dodged, laughing.

"Are you going to tell?" Yut-Lung demanded. His voice came out almost a cry.

"What, that I was right all along and you really are lonely and probably want to provoke Ash into killing you, which, should he find out, he probably will do?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Yut-Lung demanded. "Me, dead. By your hero's hand. It doesn't matter that I'm a Lee, I'm not Ash Lynx, and everyone wants to be Ash Lynx." His voice dripped in bitterness. He dropped onto the bed, lips puckered as if he was about to vomit.

"Actually, you _are_ Ash Lynx," Sing retorted.

"Don't start on that again."

"It's true."

"You're impossible."

"That's my job, Big Bro." Sing winked.

Yut-Lung blinked. His mouth formed an 'o.'

"I don't want you to die," said Sing. "Or Ash."

Yut-Lung swallowed. He clutched the edges of his shirt. "Please don't say anything. It will all—be over soon, and then I will give the rest to Ash like I promised."

"Will you tell him the truth?"

Yut-Lung shook his head.

"Good." Though Sing wondered, again, if Yut-Lung was lying. _You're the worst big brother_. He stretched his arms over his head. "Anyways. People would probably respect you more if you just showed up and murdered them."

"I don't care," said Yut-Lung.

"Guess I'm not surprised." Sing let out his breath. "See you. And just so you know, you're stupid. People can accomplish way more when they're doing things for people they admire or care about than for people they hate. I doubt you'd have made your move against your brothers just yet if you hadn't met Ash and Shorter and Eiji, anyways."

* * *

The phone rang soon after Sing left. Yut-Lung answered, but the smugness wasn't in his tone like he'd planned. "I heard."

"So you—" Hua-Lung began.

"I warned you and Wang-Lung both," Yut-Lung said, fighting to control his breathing. "I warned you that Ash had taken the Banana Fish and would use it. He might have given a command to kill you both. You need to get away from—"

Hua-Lung cussed. "Wang-Lung is suspicious of you."

"I wouldn't. I'm a Lee."

"Yes," said Hua-Lung. "You're a strange boy, though."

Yut-Lung bit his lip. "I have our father's blood, too. I wouldn't spill it." He was good at this. Sing was wrong. Lying was his game. And yet, it felt not remotely satisfying. He scrabbled around, trying to grasp some form of happiness. It slipped through his fingers.

"Prove it."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Bring us Shorter Wong. We know he must be involved. He's probably the key." Hua-Lung's voice cracked. "Fuck, these are my brothers!"

 _I'm your brother too! And you had no problem dragging me into your bed!_ Yut-Lung blew out his breath. "I'm sure you're still trailing me. If you want him, why haven't you taken him?"

"Because I'm trusting you with it."

He felt his brother's hand closing around his hair, wrapping it around his throat.

"He trusts you, doesn't he?"

"By now, reluctantly." Though Yut-Lung really didn't know. He couldn't tell. He hated that he couldn't tell.

 _I feel stupid._

" _The one thing that boy has going for him is he's smart," Wang-Lung told Hua-Lung. "He could be useful to us beyond just his pretty face."_

"Good. Hand him over to us. I'll text you the time and place. And then come back. You've been out on your own long enough and it's not delivering satisfying results." Hua-Lung exhaled. "And I miss you."

 _Of course you do._ Yut-Lung's throat tightened. Hot and cold rolled through him in a dizzying contradiction. He could gag. "Okay."

"Probably this weekend. Golzine is coming back early next week. If we can get something out of Shorter Wong by then, we will. We just have to target the cop boyfriend of his sister, to get his sister."

"Exactly." Yut-Lung's voice sounded the same as ever. Inside, it echoed and echoed. Hollow. He was a doll dancing on a string even though they were dancing on his strings, too. The strings had knotted themselves up.

It was the perfect chance to get to both Hua-Lung and Wang-Lung. He could accompany Shorter, ensure his safety.

 _Why?_ If his brothers were reported to have killed him and Yut-Lung boasted to having killed them, then he would earn Chinatown's sympathies.

Sing would know.

 _Big brother._

He thought of Shorter laughing as he hung up, the new shoes he bought him. He wanted Shorter to like him.

 _Forever,_ Eiji had told Ash. And then he confronted Ash. He wanted Ash to be better. And he still wasn't threatening. Even when he had to know what Ash was. _Face it,_ Yut-Lung had told him.

He should take his own advice. Face what he was. A Lee. He would always be a Lee. His fingers brushed his neck, finding the tattoo, and he lifted the skin from the bone and muscle and twisted, twisted, dug his nails in as if he could scrape the mark off, toss it in the trash.

If he gave up now, there was no safe haven waiting for him. Or for Shorter. Or for Sing.

Sing was going to hate him.

 _Ash, this is your fate too, isn't it? There is no happy ending for people like us._

 _It hurts._

* * *

"Oh look, you're back," said Shorter. He couldn't resist eyeing the fact that it looked like Ash had some kind of condiment smeared all through his hair and Eiji's sweatshirt was stained with the remnants of mustard, or else a bird that had eaten something neon yellow had gotten sick on it.

"Where were you?" asked Eiji.

"Nadia," said Shorter. "Ash, Charlie's worried."

"Tell him to join the club."

Eiji scowled.

"You know," Shorter said carefully. "Because Nadia told me to say this, and also because it's true: don't drag this out."

"I'm not," Ash replied. "I want this over."

 _What comes next, though?_ Eiji's brow furrowed. Shorter sighed.

He entered the apartment to find Yut-Lung sitting on the couch, staring emptily at a bottle of vodka. Which was itself half-empty. Alex and Bones sat with him, laughing over something, but Yut-Lung looked as if he didn't quite get the joke.

"We miss a party?" Shorter asked.

"Two more of my brothers are dead," said Yut-Lung. "Or as good as dead."

"How?" demanded Ash, nose wrinkling.

"I told you I have money," said Yut-Lung. "I'm putting it to good use. You don't need to know specifics." He poured himself more vodka.

"Are you drinking that straight?" demanded Shorter.

Yut-Lung held it up. The glass, an actual glass, not a shot glass, sparkled in the lights. "I guess so." He gestured. "Don't worry; I didn't leave. I sent Alex out for it. Help yourselves. Let's drink to my brothers' deaths." He hiccuped.

"Dude, that's like your third," Alex interrupted.

"It's shitty vodka; I need more to get the effect."

"You drink often?" asked Shorter.

"Sometimes." Yut-Lung set the glass down with a clink. "Guess who's coming _baaack_ , Ash."

Ash stiffened. "What?"

"How?" demanded Eiji.

"Fuck," said Shorter.

"Hua-Lung told me," said Yut-Lung. "He knows. He just has faith in our bloodline. Dumb faith. It's not love. He won't let himself believe it." He drank more.

Ash turned to stalk away.

"Are you going to try to put Eiji on a plane to Japan before he comes back?" asked Yut-Lung. "We all know that's what's best objectively, but let's be real. It's not best for anyone." He finished the drink.

Shorter didn't know if he was impressed or concerned about how much alcohol Yut-Lung's fragile body could hold. He poured himself another one.

"You almost sound like you feel guilty," Eiji commented.

Yut-Lung held the glass up almost as if to toast him. "Well, I don't. Or maybe I do. Does it matter? I'm still doing it. No, actually, I'm quite sure I don't. I hate them. I hate them so fucking much. I'm saving Hua-Lung and Wang-Lung for last so I can look in their eyes when they die. I want them to cry." He peered at Ash. "That's what you want, isn't it? For your _papa_."

Shorter felt cold. Yut-Lung's words came across like ice: clear and on the verge of breaking, slippery and impossible to grasp.

"You think you don't want to see him again," Yut-Lung continued. "But you do. You want to look him in the eyes as you take the only thing he really values away from him: his own life."

"No," said Ash, his voice shaking with—something. Eiji glanced at him. "I want him to _leave me the fuck alone."_

"You're good at lying, but I'm better. You like it."

"Want me to shut him up?" Bones asked, cracking his knuckles.

"Leave him alone," Shorter snapped. "Yut-Lung, don't pour yourself any more alcohol."

Yut-Lung looked at him and deliberately poured a fifth glass. Shit, he'd finished the fourth already? This time he filled the glass to the brim.

"What happened?" Shorter demanded. _So you're a mean drunk._

Yut-Lung let out a barking laugh. "Sing came. He called me his _big brother_. I'm a bad one, you know. Not as bad as mine. But bad."

"I can't really deny that," Eiji muttered.

"And you," said Yut-Lung, gulping more. He pointed at Eiji. "Why do you love him?"

"Huh?"

"You love Ash," said Yut-Lung. "And Ash loves you. But he's going to throw it all away to get you to Japan or to kill Arthur or now Golzine because he doesn't believe you love him."

"Hey!" shouted Eiji. His face was red. "That's not—you're—you don't know anything!"

"I'm about to throw you out," Ash snarled.

"I don't know anything," Yut-Lung admitted. "Not about—love." He got to his feet. "I'll go die in a storm drain."

"Your self-pity makes me—" Ash started, but that was when Yut-Lung actually tried to take a step and his legs buckled underneath him.

"Shit!" Shorter lunged, grabbing him by the waist. The glass shattered on the floor, scattering. Shards pricked Shorter's jeans. "Jesus, Yut-Lung!"

Yut-Lung moaned.

"Yut-Lung—"

"Should have let him fall," muttered Alex.

Yut-Lung looked up at Shorter. Sweat shone on his flushed face. "Help—me."

"Huh?"

His eyes were glassy. "I need—help. God fucking dammit. Fuck. I need—" His voice cracked.

"Mother—" Shorter hauled him into the restroom, tossing him down in front of the toilet just as he retched. Shorter rolled his eyes.

Yut-Lung whimpered, and then gagged again.

Shorter remembered once, back in middle school, when he'd gotten drunk for the first time. He thought he could handle two beers. He couldn't even handle one.

" _I'm not going to be this nice to you in the morning," Nadia had hissed, holding his head up as his stomach spasmed and spasmed._

But she was.

He grabbed Yut-Lung's hair, holding the black strands back from his face. They were softer than he'd imagined, like a girl's hair. Yut-Lung's shoulders were shaking.

"Is he _alcohol poisoning_ levels or just _I'm not going to remember tomorrow_ levels?" Ash asked from the doorway. "Because I'm going to be bitter if I have to drag him to a hospital."

"He's going to have a headache in the morning," Shorter confirmed. "But he should be fine."

Yut-Lung groaned. Shorter put his free hand on his shoulder, holding him back from dropping his head into the toilet.

"Why," Yut-Lung whispered.

"You drank five glasses of straight vodka," Shorter informed him.

Yut-Lung didn't seem like he'd heard him. "Why do I still—feel it?" He rocked forward. "I almost—care. Why now. Why now. I wish—I wish—" He slumped.

"Okay then," said Shorter. "Yut-Lung?"

He whimpered, head resting on the toilet seat.

Shorter grabbed him by the arm, pulling him up. Yut-Lung's legs gave out again. "Are you just playing or can you even stand right now?"

"I don't—" gasped Yut-Lung. " _Want_ to be—this."

Shorter cussed. "Sorry about this." He lifted Yut-Lung up into his arms. He was fairly light.

Yut-Lung seemed to give up. He lay limp, but his eyes were still open, even if not focusing. Shorter carried him to his room, laying him down on his bed. Yut-Lung tried to roll over and Shorter grabbed him, twisting him onto his side to keep him from choking if he vomited again. He yanked the trash can over to the side of the bed.

"I wish I was—Ash," mumbled Yut-Lung. "I'm—trash. Ha, it rhymes."

Shorter paused. He looked down at the boy, who was watching him, hair strewn loose around his face.

"Your piercing is pretty," Yut-Lung managed.

 _Huh?_ Shorter reached up, touching the metal.

"You know my brothers suggested I try to seduce you in Laaas—L. A? But I saw that wouldn't work. You're too loyal." He closed his eyes.

"Jesus Christ," said Shorter. His nose wrinkled.

"My face's my best weapon. Wang-Lung told me to use it. Always. But someday it'll go 'way and I'll have—nothing." He managed a choking laugh. "My mind. I guess. I'll have. Still."

A lot of the things he was saying reminded Shorter uncomfortably of the few details he knew of Ash's life growing up, the ones he would scream at Shorter if he ever brought it up.

"If I had slept w' you," Yut-Lung mumbled. "I'd prob'ly hate you. Or not. I don't know. When you jumped me with the knife in L-L—that place, I thought you were gonna try."

Shorter recoiled. "The fuck is wrong with you? I'd never force someone to—" He stopped when he realized Yut-Lung's eyes weren't even focusing on him anymore. _Do you even have any concept of people doing things because they want to? Of people respecting other people enough not to force them to do what they want? Especially in such a repulsive way?  
_

He remembered Yut-Lung dressed for Golzine, the way his brother told Golzine he was welcome to keep him. Nausea struck Shorter.

 _Have you ever been able to do things that you want to? Or refuse what you don't want?_ "I'm _not_ that sort of person." Christ.

"No," Yut-Lung agreed. "That's what make—mak—makesh me—I wish..." His voice trailed off. He moaned again. "Mom—" He hiccuped.

Shorter suddenly felt cold, as if he was barefoot against the wooden floor, age nine, listening to Nadia crying in her room. He never saw her crying after the car crash took their parents. She was strong, and he wanted to be like her. But one night he woke up and heard her crying, heard her begging their parents as if they could hear her, begging not to screw up or screw him up, missing them. He remembered the feeling that he should go to her, hug her and tell her she wasn't alone, pushing at him. But he didn't go, because he didn't want to cry.

"Please don't—hate me," Yut-Lung whispered. The moonlight spilled through the curtains, a silver stripe across his midsection. "I don't know what to do."

 _"I don't know how to do this," Nadia had sobbed that night._

 _You hate yourself enough for the both of us, don't you, Yut-Lung?_ Shorter hesitated. He felt that grainy memory in his fingertips, prickling and poking and prodding. That slick, grimy feeling. Trash. He looked over and saw Ash watching from the doorway, a muscle twitching in his throat.

Shorter grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed, pulling it over Yut-Lung. "If you puke on these designer sneakers you bought me, I'll hate you, okay? Otherwise, nah."

Yut-Lung almost smiled. His skin looked gray.

"I don't hate you, Yut-Lung," said Shorter. Some of the strands of hair that were stuck to Yut-Lung's face. He brushed them aside, something aching inside him, like an old wound reopened. "I really don't know what to think of you, but hate's not it, not by a long shot."


	7. Something Just Like This

_I'm not looking for somebody_

 _With some superhuman gifts_  
 _Some superhero_  
 _Some fairytale bliss_  
 _Just something I can turn to_  
 _Somebody I can miss_

~"Something Just Like This," Coldplay, The Chainsmokers

* * *

Shorter emerged from Yut-Lung's room, slamming the door. His sunglasses obscured his eyes.

"I am so frying onions in the morning," commented Kong. "He's going to have a hangover like I haven't had since I was twelve."

 _Twelve_. Eiji's stomach clenched. When he was twelve he was still trying to learn to pole vault. He hadn't even won anything yet. He looked down at his hands. At eight, Ash had already been seeing his hands dyed red.

"Finish the bottle if you want, or dump it down the sink," Ash said to his friends. He gestured. "I'm going to sleep."

Eiji's face was still burning from Yut-Lung's accusation. Ash hadn't looked at him since then. Was that Yut-Lung's plan? To ruin things for everyone, burn everything that he couldn't have? _Is that why you hate me?_

 _You and Ash love each other._

 _He doesn't believe you love him._

That wasn't true. It wasn't.

 _Why am I not enough?_ Eiji stared down at his hands, clean, slightly chapped, empty. Maybe it would just be better if he called Ibe-san, if he got on a plane back to Japan, tens of thousands of miles away from New York, where it would be night when New York was day, where he could look at his family and his sister and know they would never have to deal with the things Ash had had to deal with, and that Ash would never feel a family like that, feel safe inside four walls, feel safe in the open, feel safe at all.

Ash would keep fighting until he died, and Eiji might never know.

"Night." Shorter stomped towards his own room. Eiji could only imagine what kind of words Yut-Lung hurled at him. "By the way. Eiji."

He looked up. A lump grew in Eiji's throat.

"It's not that Ash doesn't believe it," said Shorter. "It's that he does."

 _Huh?_ Breath left Eiji.

Shorter shut his door.

Eiji gripped the back of his head. _I won't let that work, Yut-Lung. You might be lost and lonely, but I don't want to be, and I don't want Ash to be, and I don't even want you to be but I don't have the slightest clue how to reach you._

But he could reach Ash. Or try, at any rate. Eiji turned and pushed open his own door. Ash had flopped down onto the bed, face first. His breaths, too sharp, told Eiji he wasn't asleep.

"Hey," Eiji said, dropping onto the other bed. "Ash?"

"What?" Ash propped himself up on his elbow.

"I'm sorry," Eiji blurted out. He gripped the blankets. "I mean—what Yut-Lung said—it's not like that. I swear. I'm not like that—it's true I do care about you, I love you, but I'm not—aiming for anything. I—"

"I know," Ash interrupted. He rested his chin on his fist. "Do you really think I'd think that of you?"

Eiji swallowed. He shook his head. "No. I just wanted to say it anyways." His eyes stung.

"Eiji?" Ash pushed himself to a sitting position.

Shit, now he was crying. Eiji wiped at his face. "I don't want anything from—I just want you to be you. I don't—I want—I don't want to lose you. I'm scared of losing you. Every time you go out, I worry you won't come back. I know it's a part of your world, but I'm still scared. How do you stop being afraid?" _Why am I always afraid?_

"I'm still afraid," Ash whispered. "I'm always scared."

Eiji lifted his eyes, meeting Ash's. Ash's chin trembled. "I don't want to go back to Japan. But you want me to."

Ash drew in his breath. "Yes."

"Why?" Eiji demanded. "Why?" _Do you want to deny there's any good in you?_

"It's safer."

"Tell me _why_ , Ash!" The words came out a shout. He clapped his hand to his throat. "I'm sorry." His chest heaved. "But that's not good enough. I thought I meant something to you." _Please, I want to mean something. I want to matter. I want to exist, to live._

"That's not it at all!" Ash cried out. He clutched the blankets on his bed. The words came out like each of them was a hot coal, stinging and burning. " _I don't want to lose you._ And if it's true that—he's coming back, then—I want you to be okay, I want you to be happy, I want—you haven't done the things I've done. You're not a murderer. You haven't—"

"How do you know?" Eiji interrupted.

Ash snorted. He arched his eyebrows. "I'm listening."

"Okay, I'm not a murderer," Eiji admitted. "But Ash, the reason Ibe-san invited me here is—I was in kind of a—deep depression. I'd always defined myself by what I could do. As a pole vaulter. And after my injury, I was scared to try again. I was scared to do anything. It's stupid, I know, compared to what you've been through, to be so afraid, but I was. I still am. I don't want to go back to Japan and become like that again. I was—I felt like a waste of space and air. Everything I'd worked for, the goals I'd had, was all gone." _I feel so privileged. I could have a goal to work for, a good life to aim for, and you just work and fight for the mere possibility of it, and yet we're both drowning here._

 _It's not goals or dreams that make my life worth living. It's you. It's knowing people care._

Eiji drew in a deep breath. "That Ibe-san hadn't given up on me even though the thing that got him interested in me I couldn't do anymore—that meant something, but it was when I met you that I—you let me be afraid. You protected me. Skip, too. Shorter then." He stopped. His throat hurt. "I don't want to be your weakness, though. I want to be your strength, like you're mine. You gave me something to run towards, to face that fear and to fear. I want to—well, not repay you, because I can't and that's pointless anyways. I just want to be there for you. I want to help you. I don't care how weak you are or how afraid or how angry or what you've done. I want to help you figure out how to live, because that's what you did for me, and I don't even know if you were trying. But you did." He stopped. His eyes were squeezed shut. A sob rose in his throat.

 _I'm afraid. I'm still afraid._

He could hear Ash inhaling, and exhaling. Controlled, but then his breaths became shaky.

 _I don't want them to stop. Keep breathing, please. Keep living. Even if I can't be with you._

A hand landed on his shoulder. Eiji cracked open his eyes.

"Thank you," Ash said softly, still holding his shoulder. "You know, I _was_ planning to send you back to Japan with Ibe."

Eiji scowled.

"Don't go," said Ash, and then he broke down. "Fuck. I'm so—I hate being this—selfish. Don't go. You're not a weakness. I've never thought of you that way." Tears streamed down his face. He bowed his head. "I'm scared of my own—weakness. I don't want to lose. I can't lose you." He laid his head on Eiji's lap, just like that night a few weeks ago. "Don't go."

"Don't go, either," Eiji managed. "I want you, just as much as—" He exhaled. "Yut-Lung's not wrong. I _do_ love you, Aslan Jade Callenreese."

 _I do._

Ash lifted his face then, eyes red around green irises. His lips curved. "I love you, too, Okumura Eiji. I still hate your sandwiches."

Eiji grabbed his pillow and bopped Ash on the head with it. "Too bad for you."

* * *

Yut-Lung's skull felt as if Wang-Lung had taken an axe soaked in vinegar to it again and again and again. His stomach churned, acid scorching from the inside. The sour stench of vomit poked into his nostrils. He groaned.

He pried his eyelids open. Light scalded them. He closed them again. _What the hell happened?_

He tried to sit up and felt like weights had been attached to his spine. Yut-Lung cussed. The last thing he remembered was opening a bottle of vodka, and the pungent taste as it seared his throat. _Oops_.

He checked his phone. Afternoon? _Already?_ God. At least Wang-Lung and Hua-Lung hadn't texted him again.

 _They want me to kidnap Shorter. Again._

He leaned over and vomited into the magenta trash bin.

Maybe they would change their minds. He could think of a way to subvert it. He had to.

The door opened. "You're finally awake." Shorter crossed his arms.

"Have a spare pair of sunglasses?" Yut-Lung rasped, shielding his eyes. Why were his curtains not darker. Whoever made white curtains was stupid. He hated them. The curtains. And the people.

Shorter handed his sunglasses over. Yut-Lung blinked. "I didn't mean it. It was an attempt at a joke."

"I know, but you should have meant it, because you need them."

Yut-Lung slipped them on. They were too big for his face. He moaned again as another wave of nausea surged. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Shorter asked.

"Opening the vodka and literally nothing else. How did I get here?" The nausea abated. Yut-Lung blew out his breath.

"You let loose on Ash and Eiji and me."

"Huh?"

"With your best weapon. Your words."

"My words?" Yut-Lung's hand few towards his mouth. His brothers had always told him his best weapon was his face. Like a woman's, or an angel's. No one would guess he had a brain, too. "What did I say?"

"You did your best to make sure everyone was hurt."

"Fuck." Yut-Lung's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry." He wondered what he could possibly have said to Shorter. He didn't want to know. "I just—I didn't want to feel anything."

"Well, you probably achieved that," Shorter pointed out with a snort.

"No, I didn't." Yut-Lung looked at him, squinting even behind the sunglasses. "I am sorry for anything I said or did."

"Ash and Eiji are probably the two who need apologies the most," said Shorter.

"Oh." Yut-Lung wrapped his arms around himself, breathing deeply to quell the nausea rising again inside him.

"Hold on." Shorter left.

 _Please, don't return with Ash or Eiji._

He didn't. He returned with a glass of water. "Drink this."

Yut-Lung obeyed. It felt cool, good, sliding down his throat. It calmed his stomach. "Thank you." _And you didn't kick me out? Even though I was apparently being awful?_

"Do you drink often?"

"Not that much." Yut-Lung swallowed. He gripped the glass between his knees. He tried to pry through his mind, but it was like everything was locked, and no matter how he clawed at those doors, they wouldn't open. "I really don't like not knowing what happened. That's never happened to me before." He hated this loss of control. It felt like his hair wrapped around his throat, choking him.

"You did say you liked my piercing," Shorter said, pointing to it.

"I did?" Yut-Lung's face burned. "Well, that was a delusion. It's stupid."

"Never mind; I like drunk you more," Shorter declared. He smirked.

 _I couldn't have been that bad, then._ Yut-Lung exhaled. "How old were you when you got that?"

"Two years ago? So seventeen. I may have had a drink or two at the time but I still remember it."

"Keep rubbing it in." Yut-Lung rolled his eyes and regretted it. The room swayed. He sipped more water.

"Your tattoo," said Shorter, gesturing. "How old were you?"

"Ten. They pretty much figured out that I wasn't going to die in an accident by then and was worth getting it. They weren't gentle." He remembered wanting one of the Lee tattoos, and when it came time to get it, it stung and stabbed and all he could think of was the tattoos he'd seen on his brothers as they raped his mother. He hadn't cried, but he'd grimaced once, and afterwards Wang-Lung had squeezed the healing wound and Yut-Lung thought his skin would tear clear off.

"Is that normal for your family?"

Yut-Lung shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so. I think it was because—my mother wasn't their mother."

"Because she was a mistress?"

"They hated her. They still hate her." Yut-Lung's voice cracked. He stiffened. He couldn't allow any of that to seep out. He shivered.

"Hey," said Shorter. "My parents weren't married when they had Nadia. I like to remind her of that sometimes, so that she can't tell me I'm disappointing them too badly." He tried to laugh, and then failed.

Yut-Lung snorted. "I'm guessing she slaps you." Shorter was actually reaching out? Trying to relate. But he couldn't. But he was trying.

"More like she'll make my food with five times the spice."

"Ow."

"No kidding." Shorter slid down the wall, sitting on the floor. He wasn't leaving.

"They say I'm like her," Yut-Lung said. "Well, they say I look like her. I have none of my father in me, according to them."

"I don't know what she was like," said Shorter, spreading his fingers. "So, I can't comment."

Yut-Lung's heart hammered. He laced his fingers together. "Do you want to hear about her?" His heart pounded.

"Okay," says Shorter. "I mean, yes. You seem to like her."

"I loved her." Yut-Lung's voice was dangerously close to cracking. "Never mind."

"What happened to her?" Shorter asked. He rubbed the back of his head. "I'm assuming she's... not here anymore. Like my parents. It sucks, you know. When Nadia told me they weren't coming home, I stayed up all night to prove her wrong because I was so sure they would come home." His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Yut-Lung whispered.

"Everyone dies."

"It still sucks."

Shorter tried to laugh, but it faltered on his lips. "Yeah," he said finally. "It does."

Yut-Lung doubled over. "My father started seeing my mother when their mother was—dying of cancer. She cried, or so they say. Their mother. She died, and then my mother had me, and they say she's the reason my father got weaker and weaker, until eventually one of the mafia stabbed him and he died too. I was six. I don't really remember him much. We lived in an apartment across town. He paid for it, though, or he must have, because it was nice, and she'd only ever been a waitress." He peered at Shorter, waiting to see, see if he'd leap to the same conclusion his brothers had: _what a cheating slut. She had what was coming to her._

Shorter sighed. "I remember hearing he'd died." No scorn. No judgment.

"She was a mother for me," Yut-Lung insisted. "She would teach me since I was homeschooled, and play hide and seek with me for hours. She had long hair. I used to braid it for her. It looked awful from what I remember, but she'd laugh and laugh and wear it all day. Once my father visited after I'd put her hair up in four different braided buns and he smiled at me. I thought he'd be mad, but he said how cute it was." Yut-Lung pressed the back of his hand against his mouth.

"What happened to her?" asked Shorter, in a voice that suggested he knew where the story was going.

"After he died, she must have known. But she tried to protect us. She just forgot to lock the door that one night, maybe a month later, or not even. She'd had a few glasses of wine and—they all came. All six of them. It was late and I was asleep." He could hear the footsteps even now, and— "She screamed. My name. And then I left my room and they grabbed me, and Wang-Lung said to keep me there, that I had to see. They took turns. Raping her. She was crying the entire time, and then they stabbed her in her chest, and there was so much blood. Hua-Lung held me back, but I wasn't trying to fight, not really."

Shorter's breaths hitched.

Shame wrapped itself around Yut-Lung. "I was too scared. Hua-Lung was fifteen. He said if I didn't cry it'd help me." Yut-Lung's voice trembled. "So I didn't fight. For her. And then they took me to live with them and since then I've always wanted to see what they'd look like if they were killed. If they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were going to die, like she must have."

He wasn't going to tell Shorter where Hua-Lung had taken him after they dragged him out of the apartment, what he'd done to him. Prostituting himself to the likes of Golzine was one thing. Fucking his own brothers was another.

"Fucking _God_ ," said Shorter.

 _I didn't fight for her._ He couldn't look at Shorter. _You would have fought for your sister, I'm sure. Or your parents._

"You were six," said Shorter.

"Yes."

"You shouldn't blame yourself."

"I don't. I blame them."

"Bullshit."

Yut-Lung flinched.

"Sorry," said Shorter. "But it wasn't your fault. They've always been snakes." His eyes met Yut-Lung's, no sunglasses to disguise the anger sparking there. And that anger wasn't directed at Yut-Lung.

"You were right," said Yut-Lung. "You know, when you told me that the Lee family was maggots living off others. You were _right_ , and I knew it."

"Yeah, well, I didn't even know the extent of it," said Shorter. "That is _evil_. They are evil. They don't deserve to be in charge, and you—you didn't deserve to go through that. I'm sorry you went through that."

 _What?_ The words reverberated inside Yut-Lung's skull. _You really are so much better than me, and I tried to wreck that_. "It's not your fault." He hung his head. "I'm sorry I made you betray your friends." _I'm sorry I'm still a Lee. I'm sorry their blood runs in my veins. If it didn't, they would have raped and killed me that day, and I wouldn't be around to ruin your life. I'm sorry._

"I'm sorry I pinned you down."

"It's fine." Yut-Lung understood why he did it. "You had the right to be pissed."

 _You said you thought I looked like Eiji._

 _What is Eiji to you? Who you could have been, if your parents hadn't died? Who your sister might wish you were? Who you might wish you were?_

"Well, last night you brought it up and you said you thought I was going to hurt you, so my guess is you didn't find it fine."

Yut-Lung's hand flew to his mouth. Horror crept through him. He'd accused Shorter of that? Granted, he had wondered at first, but when Shorter spewed those words, when his tears fell on Yut-Lung's face, when he left, he knew. _You're better than anyone else I've known._ To not take advantage of someone just because you thought it wrong, even when you could. To actually be able to say something you felt, to cry about it—that was strong. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," said Shorter. "You don't have to be, not for that."

Yut-Lung exhaled. "Please don't repeat any of this."

"I won't."

And strangely, Yut-Lung trusted him. He nodded.

Shorter snickered. "You also asked me not to hate you."

Yut-Lung's face felt like it had been dipped in acid. He bit his tongue so hard blood leaked out.

"I don't hate you, though," said Shorter. "I did once. I really don't hate you anymore. When you're not trying to double-cross everyone, you're actually pretty cool. Just figured I'd say it when you can actually remember it."

 _I am_? He didn't know if anyone had ever complimented him like that before. "So are you."

Shorter smiled. "So, I guess you're a friend."

"Friend," Yut-Lung whispered. He nodded. "I thought we were fake boyfriend and girlfriend, _baby_."

Shorter guffawed.

 _At that moment, with the knife…_

 _I wanted you to kill me. I was trying to goad you into it._

 _But right now, I'm glad I'm alive._

* * *

Yut-Lung wasn't surprised in the least when Ash came to his room as dusk fluttered an indigo satin blanket over the sky. He set his book aside. "Yes?"

"Drop the cool and collected facade; I saw you puking last night and crying for help." Ash gestured. "Nice sunglasses."

Yut-Lung scowled. Shorter hadn't mentioned the crying. "I'm sorry. Shorter told me I said—some things to you, and to Eiji, though he didn't say precisely what, only that it was mean. I am sorry."

Ash blinked. Clearly he hadn't expected an apology. "Well, it all worked out all right."

"Huh?" He didn't follow.

"You tried to turn me and Eiji against each other, really," said Ash. "But it didn't work. You said we loved each other, and—"

"Oh." Yut-Lung rubbed his temples. "Well, you do."

Ash was quiet. "Yes. We do."

Yut-Lung's mouth fell open.

"What? Didn't expect me to admit that?"

"Not hardly." Then again, he wouldn't have expected himself to ever have told Shorter about what happened to his mother. _Are you not afraid of me, Ash? But you're always afraid of me. Because I am you. So why not now? Is it Eiji?_

"Fair." Ash cocked his head, studying him. "I have a question for you."

Yut-Lung's heart picked up pace. Were his brothers onto him? Had they—

Ash folded his arms. "Do you really want to kill your brothers?"

Yut-Lung narrowed his eyes. "Of course I do. I'm doing it."

"Are you sure?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Well, for most people, when they're doing something they want to do, they don't then drink themselves into a state where they don't know which way is up afterwards and then rant the way you did."

Yut-Lung blanched. "What did I say?"

"It doesn't matter," said Ash. "You lashed out. That's not—look, I'm asking you. Do you want to kill them? Or not? I don't care what your answer is. I just want to know what it is."

"Do you want to kill Golzine?"

"No," said Ash. "Not him, not Arthur, but I have to. I want to because I have to. I guess a part of me wants to. I don't know."

"I feel the same," Yut-Lung said.

Ash exhaled. "I can't let them get Eiji. Or Shorter. And they won't stop."

"Golzine will team up with my brothers," Yut-Lung said. He'd planned to team up with the man himself. But…

 _He won't stop._ Eiji, Ash, Shorter. Yut-Lung couldn't protect Shorter like he could Sing, because Shorter would not ever side with anyone who had a hand in Ash or Eiji's downfall.

"So we take them down," said Ash. He met Yut-Lung's gaze through the sunglasses. "Together."

 _You're... trusting me?_ Yut-Lung lifted his eyebrow. A lump grew in his throat, but he'd be damned if he let that show in front of Ash. _I am tough. I am._ "I'm guessing I couldn't have been _that_ mean last night. Or, is it just you feeling hope because of your talk with Eiji?"

Ash rolled his eyes. "I'm going to tape your mouth shut."

"Good luck."

Ash sighed. He drummed his fingers on Yut-Lung's desk. "Do you want this, though? Not just them dying. All that comes with it. Do you want to be the leader of the Lee family?"

Yut-Lung's throat tightened. He played with the ends of his hair. "It's the only way." He glanced at Ash. "And you? Do you want to lead a gang?"

Ash stared out the window. "I want to be with people I care about, so if—"

 _If that's what it takes, you'll do it_. "You feel responsible for them."

"And you? To Chinatown?"

"No," said Yut-Lung. "Chinatown can piss themselves. Sing and/or Shorter would be better than the Lee clan. But no one will respect them and they will me because I was born with my father's bloodline." He blew out his breath. "I hate it."

"I hated being born looking like this," said Ash, gesturing towards his face. "I used to think about cutting my face up."

"What happens after?" Yut-Lung asked. "For you. After they're gone."

"I don't know. Eiji—" Ash swallowed. "We'll see."

"If you want my backing as a gang leader, if you can't leave, I'd give it to you." His heart pounded. _Are you really—maybe—not hating me anymore?_

"The longer I stay here," said Ash, dropping his chin to his chest. "The more I might become like Arthur. That's why I want nothing to do with Golzine. He adopted me as his heir, you know. I don't want to be like him."

 _Oh, shit._ Yut-Lung cringed. "If you're trying to imply—"

"I wasn't. But I don't know. I hope you're not like them." Ash exhaled. He met Yut-Lung's gaze. "You sent men to attack Max's wife and child. They assaulted her." His voice wasn't accusatory so much as broken.

Yut-Lung pressed his lips together. "I didn't know they were going to do that. I would have told them not to." Max had been kind to him. Friendly. And he could only see his mother, lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood.

 _I'm not them. I'm not._

He lowered his head. "I won't be like that again. I won't make that mistake."

"It was my own stupidity that got Skip killed," Ash said.

"I don't know who that is."

"You don't need to." Ash pried himself away from the wall. "That's all I wanted to know. For whatever your word is worth."

Yut-Lung lifted his head. "Ash?"

"Yeah?"

"If I apologized, would it do anything?" _I'm going to talk to Shorter. And Sing_. _I won't kidnap him. If I can convince him to go undercover, though—_

"I don't know," Ash said, swallowing. "You could try." He studied his shoes.

Ash left, and Yut-Lung watched his reflection in the window. _I'm not like them. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. They deserve to die._

 _I—_

 _Please._

This part of him holding tight really, really wanted to live.

 _I have to find a way out of this._ There had to be a way. There was always a way.


	8. Face Up

_I just want to feel alive_  
 _The times you don't wanna wake up_  
 _'Cause in your sleep it's never over when you give up_  
 _The sun is always gonna rise up_  
 _You need to get up, gotta keep your head up_  
 _Look at the people all around you_  
 _The way you feel is something everybody goes through_  
 _Dark out, but you still gotta light up_

~"Face Up," Lights

* * *

Yut-Lung checked his phone. Tomorrow evening. There was a good chance it was a trap, but if he had Banana Fish, he had leverage. He'd have to talk to Shorter before then.

He didn't want to see Shorter's face when he realized Yut-Lung had lied to him, though. But he might understand. He would, wouldn't he? If he didn't hold Yut-Lung's drunken antics against him… _I'm asking him to put himself in danger again._ And his sister, by extension. And to trust Yut-Lung, when he probably shouldn't.

 _I don't have a choice._

He grabbed his phone. Doubting himself never got him anywhere. He had to trust his instincts, trust his training. Resisting only got you more hurt. That was Hua-Lung's advice, long ago.

He sent Shorter a text. _Can we talk later?_

 _Ok,_ came the reply.

He was probably out killing people with Ash again. Because it was necessary. Or. Or.

Yut-Lung folded his legs up to his chest. _Don't doubt. Don't resist._

 _I can't escape, so I will take you down with me._ But he wasn't going to risk taking down Shorter, or even the others here, because by now he knew enough to know that if he took down Ash or Eiji or anyone in the gang, he'd take down Shorter too. He'd blame himself, the stupidly loyal idiot. But Yut-Lung knew what that kind of guilt felt like, and he'd be damned if Shorter had to live with any more of that. He'd called Yut-Lung a _friend_.

 _I want to escape._

 _Help me. Someone. Help me._

He'd never yelled that. Not even when they drew out the knife to stab his mother. He'd known no one was coming. He stopped crying as soon as they told him to. He obeyed.

He wondered if she thought of him, if she worried for him, if she thought they would kill him. He knew she had. She cried out his name at first. She never called for help.

A knock on the door. Which member of the brigade was here now? His drunken accusations must have hit their mark. At the very least he had that satisfaction.

Eiji entered.

 _Oh. You._ Yut-Lung managed a smile that was all ice, and looking at the boy's stiff features, he knew Eiji knew it. "I already spoke to Ash."

Eiji tilted his head, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bed. Yut-Lung stayed in the desk chair. "What did Ash say?"

"He told me what I'd said last night."

"You still hate me, don't you?" Eiji asked. He gripped his knees.

"I suppose." That might be a lie. He didn't really. He just didn't know how to feel and it felt too surreal to drop his trained sword in front of this boy. Not yet.

"I doubt you even know why," Eiji said."That's okay. You can hate me if you want to."

"Huh?" Yut-Lung stared.

"I came here to tell you that I don't care what I have to do," Eiji said, voice trembling. "I will never let Golzine get his filthy hands on Ash ever again." Fire burned in his tone.

Yut-Lung nodded. "I'd say you and he have that goal in common, then."

"I don't know if he lets himself think of that," Eiji admitted. "At least, not really. He sees it but it's blurred." He met Yut-Lung's eyes. "You were right in some ways. I don't belong in his world, but I'm staying. I'm not leaving him."

"Okay..." Yut-Lung didn't know where this was going.

Eiji drew in a deep breath. And as if each phoneme were painful, he spoke. "What can I pay you with to kill him?"

The inkwell clattered to the floor. Yut-Lung gaped at him. Had Eiji just—Okumura Eiji, the one everyone looked to like a saint—had he just—asked Yut-Lung to _kill_ someone?

"I don't know if you're working through a hit man or how exactly you've been taking out your brothers," Eiji said hurriedly. His face was pallid, sweaty. "Can you target Golzine when he gets back?"

Yut-Lung tried to speak. His tongue wouldn't work. "Why are you asking me?" he finally croaked.

"Because you can do it."

"Why not ask your boyfriend to do it and support him? Help him?"

Eiji turned red. "He's not my boyfriend. I mean—it's—I don't know—"

"You're right. I don't have a name for your relationship." Yut-Lung rested his chin on his fist. He'd never wanted to strangle Eiji more than he did this moment.

"I'll do whatever you ask," Eiji pleaded. "Well, as long as it doesn't involve hurt coming to anyone besides Golzine. I'm desperate. You're... you can do it. I know you can, and I don't think you're playing us. You really seem to like Shorter, and the rest of us, in your own way. Except me."

 _Go back to Japan_. But he couldn't say that. He hated Okumura Eiji. He hated him, he hated him, he hated him. Because he knew why Eiji was asking him. "I see," he said.

"Huh?"

"You're asking me and not Ash because I am Ash. Because Sing was right all along," Yut-Lung managed, each word clipped, barely restrained. He wanted them sharper to pierce Eiji's skin, cripple him, make him bleed ugly red blood just like his mother hand, make him feel the humiliation he felt that time he tied Eiji to the headboard knowing Eiji was looking at him like he was his brothers and he wasn't, he _wasn't_ , he was.

 _Fuck you! Fuck you, Eiji!_ "Because I'm Ash but without any good in me," Yut-Lung finished. He tried to laugh. No sound came. "That's why you asked me. You could ask Ash. With your encouragement he wouldn't even hesitate, right? We both know it. You want me to be evil Ash so you can love good Ash. I take back what I said last night. You _don't_ love Ash. You hate him. You're afraid of him. You hate me _and I hate you!_ " He hurled the inkwell at Eiji.

Eiji yelped, blocking it with his arm. It clattered to the floor.

"Face it," Yut-Lung snarled. "He is his world. You can't accept that he's done these things. You never will. You're a complete and total hypocrite. You know he's probably out mowing unarmed people down right now? Right fucking now?"

"He's actually out with Max and Ibe-san."

Yut-Lung swept his arm across his desk. Yellow pads of paper scattered. He stomped on one of them. He grabbed another and tore the papers apart.

 _Why?_ _Why? Why? Why are you like this? Why?_ "I hate you," he choked out again. "I hate you! I fucking hate you!" He grabbed his own hair, tearing it from his scalp.

 _"Stop!"_

"Why should I?" Yut-Lung faced him and laughed. The wild sound galloped through the room. _"Why?"_ He clamped his hands to his face and screamed, wordlessly. He tried to scrape his skin.

Hands clamped around his wrists, tugging his hands from his face. Yut-Lung yanked back. Eiji held tighter. Yut-Lung tried to smack him, tried to grab his own hair, but Eiji yanked his arms away, and Yut-Lung remembered that he was a retired athlete. _I can't win._ "Let me go!"

"I'm not going to let you hurt yourself!"

 _"Let me go!"_

Eiji shoved him back, panting. Yut-Lung lifted his hands. They were shaking.

 _"Don't_ hurt yourself," Eiji insisted.

"Why not?" Yut-Lung managed. "Why would you care? _You_ hate me." _Why him and not me? Why you and not me?_

"Yut-Lung," Eiji said softly.

"You hate me!"

"No," said Eiji. "I don't. Not anymore."

"Since when?" Yut-Lung snarled.

"Since _now!_ "

Yut-Lung shook his head wildly. "So what, you think I'm too pitiable? Crazy?"

"No. I think you're someone who reached a breaking point. Everyone has one. I think you've hung on much longer than most people would."

 _What?_ He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. He dropped onto the floor. His head hung. "Why would you want to do this to yourself?" Yut-Lung eked out. "You want me to kill someone? Do you have any understanding of what that is? What that means? Or are you really still that naive and stupid? Am I really just a dog to do your dirty work? You're no different than my brothers. That's how they view me, too—they—"

"Yut-Lung," Eiji interrupted again. He met his gaze. "I'm—sorry." Tears ran down his face.

 _Stop!_ "It's too late."

"Why?"

He thought of his own desire to apologize to Max and Jessica. _I'm scared._

 _Tell me it's too late._

"I _am_ sorry," Eiji whispered. "Too late or not. You're not a dog. You're a person. I shouldn't have—I didn't—I am sorry, Yut-Lung."

Is this what it felt like, to have someone see you? His teeth chattered. Yut-Lung clutched his wrists. He had been—and Eiji was still—he laughed again, broken this time, but he heard it. "You have—you have a choice and you—you don't have to. You're fucking _good_ , Eiji. Why would you want to kill that? Why would you want to be anything else?"

"Huh?" Eiji gaped.

"If you murder him, how do you think you'll ever be able to help Ash?"

"He doesn't care about me because I'm _good_ ," Eiji said. "He just cares, despite the fact that I'm useless. I'm—"

Yut-Lung shook his head. "No, you're not. Don't say that."

Eiji blinked. "What even _is_ good? Why do I have to be good? What does that _mean_ anyways? I know you think it. I had opportunities you never had. I had choices you never had. That is not your fault. I'm not better than you—I'm really not." His face crumpled. "I'm sorry. I have acted like I was, haven't I?"

 _You really... you don't think you are._

 _You are... you are... what I..._ "Don't kill someone," Yut-Lung managed. "It doesn't feel good. I'm killing my brothers because—I have to."

"And then what?" Eiji asked. "Will you stop killing? If you're boss of Chinatown—"

"I don't know," whispered Yut-Lung. "I don't _know!"_ He clutched his scalp. Eiji stepped closer, hand hovering over his wrists, as if worried Yut-Lung would tear at his skin again. "I don't know how to—get out of this!" He was on a carousel and it wouldn't stop. It spun and it spun and it spun and it would eventually fling him off, and he had no idea where he would land. _Help me._ He covered his face. "Someone _help_ me."

Shit. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Arms closed in around him. But they weren't pinning him. They were hesitant, and they were warm, and they spoke nothing of what had happened when he kidnapped Eiji, when he had Shorter dragged away, when he tied Eiji to a bed frame. They held him. Eiji had knelt down and wasn't letting go.

And Yut-Lung collapsed. His forehead rested on Eiji's shoulder. Tears ran down his face, clogging his throat. A cry broke from him.

 _I don't hate you because I want to be Ash._

 _I hate you because I want to be_ you _. You are better than me, and I want you to be._

 _Don't throw that away._

 _You don't see us as trash. And if you don't, then I—then I—_

 _I'm not trash._

 _So then what?_

If Eiji was a person, if Ash was a person, if he was a person, if Shorter and Sing and—

Yut-Lung's stomach lurched. He pulled back, swallowing. "You really do love him."

Eiji's face turned scarlet. "I—"

"That's good," Yut-Lung managed. _If you can love him—if he can love you—maybe. If we're people._

 _I'm so tired of being alone._

Eiji nodded.

"I'm sorry," Yut-Lung said. "For what I did and said. I should not have."

"I think you should have," Eiji said quietly. "At least, today's things. Earlier. Like, a long time ago." He used his thumbs to wipe away Yut-Lung's tears, like his mother used to when he felt and scraped his knees, or messed up with calligraphy.

Yut-Lung snorted. "Ash's gang is almost like a family."

"I can see that."

"My family is a family, and we're nothing like this."

"I'm sorry," said Eiji.

"Thank you," Yut-Lung whispered.

Eiji blinked. "For what?"

 _For being you. For trying. For caring._

"I didn't do much besides a hug," Eiji added with a chuckle. He looked scared. Scared of what? Being useful? Taking his own narrative in his hands?

A hug. How long had it been? "Probably more effective than you hiring me to kill Golzine," Yut-Lung responded.

Eiji sighed, leaning back. He looked at Yut-Lung. "Thank you for reminding me it's a bad idea to kill someone."

Yut-Lung almost laughed.

Eiji shook his head as if just realizing how ridiculous he sounded. "For real, though." He reached out, grabbing Yut-Lung's wrists. "Please forgive me. If you can. I am truly sorry."

 _Huh?_ Yut-Lung blinked. He nodded.

"You're strong. To survive this hell—you were right. I don't think I could have. You and Ash—you shouldn't have to—don't hate yourselves."

"Because you'll do it for me?" One last try.

Eiji shook his head. "I can't hate you. To me, that strength—the fact that you both keep trying—that's good, to me."

He was crying again. _I'm not good._

"Do you want another hug?" Eiji asked. "Or a tofu sandwich?"

Yut-Lung rolled his eyes. "Those need work."

Eiji laughed. And then he swallowed. "Whether or not you kill your brothers, I'm not going to—I mean—I'll talk to Ash, and the others. I'm not going to let them hurt you again, either."

 _What?_ "We can talk to Shorter," said Yut-Lung. "To Charlie, because he's dating Nadia. I won't let Golzine hurt Ash again, either."

"If Charlie could do something, wouldn't he have?"

"Isn't Max a reporter?"

"Yes…"

"We can figure something out," Yut-Lung said. _I have to._ If he went to see his brothers tomorrow, he could make some arrangements. Find certain documents. Email them to Max Lobo. An apology.

And if only one of them could make it out alive, it'd be Shorter, not him.

* * *

 _"I'll be around more soon, Nadia. I promise."_

 _"Take your time," she told him. "I'm not going anywhere. And give Ash my best wishes. Is it just the two of you, and that Japanese boy?"_

 _"And a few others," Shorter said. "One of whom is kind of difficult. Or not really. He's just been through a lot. Kind of like Ash when I first met him, and he's confused, and he's kind of a bitch to people who try to help him." He lifted his shoes. "He bought me these, though. See, I have a rich friend now!" He ducked to dodge the throw pillow she hurled at him._

As he headed back to the condo, Shorter's mind spun with thoughts of how to get Yut-Lung to emerge from his shell or his room or both more often. As wounded as he'd been earlier that day, he'd been funny that day in the store, and earlier today as well. He wanted Ash and Eiji to be able to see that side of Yut-Lung, see that the snake had warm blood.

Shorter shoved the door open to the condo. He froze.

Yut-Lung and Eiji were sitting down and talking. _Without_ Yut-Lung looking as if he was sucking on a lemon the entire time. "What happened to Ash?"

"What do you mean?" demanded Eiji, eyes widening. "Is he—"

"I mean, you two are talking," Shorter said. "So something must have happened—"

"We were just talking," Yut-Lung said, flicking his ponytail.

 _You never_ just _do anything,_ Shorter thought. He tossed the bag of groceries Nadia had insisted he take onto the counter.

" _You said you missed my jiaozi," Nadia had said. "So here."_

Of course, she hadn't made them for him. No, instead she'd bought the ingredients so he could make them himself. He wondered if she was able to cook, or if it made her too sad over the fate of her restaurant.

 _You've given up way too much for me, sis_. First, her teen years, to raise him. Now her livelihood, because he paid her back by putting her life in danger. And she still loved him. _You're tougher than any street gang I know._

"No threats?" Shorter managed to joke.

Yut-Lung scowled. "I'm about to threaten _you."_

Eiji actually laughed. Yut-Lung smiled.

"If you getting drunk and letting loose has actually fixed things, I have to say, I'm impressed," Shorter said. "If only that were the cure for more in life." He opened the cabinets, cussing.

"Are you trying to cook?" Yut-Lung inquired. "Eiji, get the smoke detectors ready."

"I can cook! You don't think Nadia raised me and didn't make sure I knew how to not starve?"

"Ash will be glad it's not more tofu sandwiches," remarked Eiji. Both of them had approached the kitchen, leaning over the island and watching him.

Shorter tossed a head of cabbage at Yut-Lung. "You don't get to sit back and watch, princess. Help out."

Yut-Lung caught the bag. "I have literally never cooked anything for myself in my life."

"Why am I not surprised? Time to learn how the paupers live." Shorter rolled his eyes. "Don't sever your fingers; that's the first step."

"I've cooked," Eiji said helpfully.

Yut-Lung pointed the knife at him, but the look on his face was that of a friend, teasing. Shorter felt his eyebrows lift.

Yut-Lung's story had been circling on the edge of his mind since he'd told him. He promised he wouldn't say a word, but as he talked to Nadia, he could only imagine her reaction. _Who would do such a thing?_ And this was their ruling family.

 _You don't deserve any of that power._ Yut-Lung—Shorter looked to him and felt worry for his friend creeping in.

" _Don't worry about me," Nadia told him. "Worry about yourself."_

" _I'm sorry," he said again. "To put you in danger."_

" _You're an idiot," she said. And he knew, looking at her, why she said that. Her eyes glistened and her lips pursed, and he knew then that her chief concern was never for herself, was never for the risk to her life or to her business._

 _It was always that he would be gone, and she would be alone in the world. Although not, because she had Charlie. But, still she was scared._

 _How selfish have I been, to never think of what would happen to you if I—_

He was hardly what she wanted her little brother to grow up to be. But, there was still time. He was still alive. Shorter eyed Yut-Lung chopping the cabbage like he was a natural, because of course he would be good at slicing things into little pieces.

If Yut-Lung succeeded. If he took over. If he became the sole surviving Lee family member. _Who will you become?_

Shorter tried to picture himself if Nadia had been like his brothers. If she had killed their parents, made him watch, molded him to be a killer. That Yut-Lung had any sense of _this is wrong_ was pretty astounding. _You're stronger than you think,_ Shorter thought as Yut-Lung bit his lip, making the pieces of cabbage even tinier. His hair fell over his shoulder like a waterfall of ink.

 _You don't have to kill them to prove it._

 _But do you have to kill them to live?_

"Am I doing it wrong?" Yut-Lung asked, pausing. His hair glittered under the lights.

"No," said Shorter, realizing he had been staring. "Looks good."

Eiji was rolling dough. "So—"

The door opened again. "Oh God," said Ash. "If you burn this place down my dad won't be happy."

"Dad?" Shorter yelped, mincing ginger. He did not want to see Jim Callenreese again. Though, he could only imagine how Yut-Lung would shred the man with his words.

"Fake dad," Max offered, entering. Ibe wasn't with him. Eiji's shoulders slumped. Shorter suspected Eiji felt the same lingering guilt that he had felt when he was avoiding Nadia.

Yut-Lung stiffened. He turned his face away. His hand stilled on the knife.

"Ibe says hello," Max added.

Eiji nodded. "I miss him."

Max smiled.

Yut-Lung glanced at Shorter, eyes narrowing in an accusation. Shorter lifted his shoulders. _I didn't tell anyone._

Yut-Lung set the knife down and then turned as if to slip back to his room. Shorter grabbed his arm as he took a step. Yut-Lung glanced up at him. _Don't go,_ Shorter thought. He liked Yut-Lung hanging out with them. _You're not hateful. I want them to see._

"I thought you had something to say to Max," said Ash. "Yut-Lung."

"I—"

Shorter loosened his grip. He couldn't force Yut-Lung to do anything. _But I want you to_. Eiji turned gray.

Yut-Lung's chest heaved. And Shorter could tell what he was thinking. _How the hell do I even apologize? There's no way to make up for something like that._

At least Shorter hadn't wanted to betray Eiji or Ash, or endanger Nadia. Yut-Lung knew he was endangering Max's family, whom he hadn't even met, and did it anyways.

It didn't matter. Words wouldn't change anything.

It did matter, because it was all that could be done, even if it changed nothing.

"I told Max you had something you wanted to say to him," Ash said sweetly.

Yut-Lung gulped. He couldn't look at Max.

 _You really are ashamed._

Yut-Lung took a deep breath. He took a step forward and dropped to his knees. Shorter's jaw dropped. He waited, but Yut-Lung didn't seem to have words, for perhaps the first time in his life. Eiji met Ash's gaze.

"I'm sorry," Yut-Lung whispered finally. "Ash—told me—I didn't know they were going to hurt—I am sorry. I know it doesn't change anything. I don't want or expect your forgiveness. I just wanted to—I am sorry." His voice cracked.

Max blinked. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Jessica doesn't hate you, you know."

"Huh?" Yut-Lung jerked his face up, meeting Max's eyes for the first time.

"You're what, sixteen?"

Yut-Lung nodded.

"You're a kid," Max said. "I don't imagine your brothers would have been very friendly to you if you'd said no. I despise them. I will take them down, if you don't. They deserve to die. But you're a kid caught up in a war." He frowned, exhaustion lining his face. "I saw more than enough of those. I saw them killed, probably when they were around your age, and Michael's."

In Iraq. Shorter understood. He drummed his fingers against the stove.

"Kids aren't to blame," Max added. His voice broke.

"I still did it," Yut-Lung pointed out, voice soft. "When you'd been nothing but kind to me."

"Your act was convincing, and you have a way with words. You could be a good undercover reporter."

Yut-Lung blinked. He looked to Shorter.

 _Has anyone ever told you you could be anything other than being a Lee before?_

"Oh," said Yut-Lung.

Max extended his hand. Yut-Lung reached up, and Max pulled him to his feet. yut-Lung studied his shoes, shoulders hunched around himself as if to protect himself.

"Jesus, Max," said Shorter. "I mean, like fuck, man."

Even Ash looked stunned. He glanced at Eiji, who smiled.

 _If Yut-Lung could be something else, could you be, Ash?_ Shorter couldn't imagine it. And then when he looked at Eiji, he thought he maybe could.

 _Could I be something else? What? Who could I be?_

"I heard you were making _jiaozi_ ," called Sing's voice from the hallway. "Open the door. I'm hungry."

"Starve," hollered Ash.

"Let me in before I break in!"

Yut-Lung opened the door. Sing's jaw fell open. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Yut-Lung.

"Okay, big bro, you're still annoying so I'm not that worried." Sing pushed his way in, and Yut-Lung turned, and Shorter saw what Sing meant. Yut-Lung wasn't crying, not really, but his skin looked light, almost iridescent, glowing, his jaw soft instead of clenched.

 _You look happy._ Shorter realized he was smiling. Ash arched his eyebrows at Shorter. He shrugged. _See, Yut-Lung's not so bad._ And seeing him happy made Shorter feel happy.

"What did you want to talk about?' Shorter asked later, when they'd eaten too many dumplings and when, by then, he'd realized. _You sent me home with food to get us all to talk, didn't you?_ That was how Nadia had fixed all their arguments growing up. Food, and making him help her cook.

Yut-Lung focused on the glass in front of him, holding it up to the light, watching the clean water spark against it. "Nothing," he said.


	9. Robbers

_I'll give him one more time_  
 _We'll give you one more fight_  
 _Said one more line_  
 _Will I know you?_

 _~"Robbers," The 1975_

* * *

Yut-Lung lay awake long after Max had left and everyone had turned in. He couldn't sleep.

 _What did you want to talk about?_

 _Nothing._ Just the small matter of how he'd been asked to kidnap Shorter again and if he didn't he might not have as easy a time killing his last two brothers. And the whole reason this was happening was because he was so fucking stupid. He dragged this out for his own satisfaction, wanting to see Wang-Lung and Hua-Lung squirm. If he'd taken care of them at once, this wouldn't be happening.

He pressed the back of his wrist against his mouth, biting down on his skin. It wouldn't even break.

 _Everyone will think I didn't mean that apology._

 _I did. I'm trapped. I can't risk it._ None of the people he'd hired would target the first two. Or succeed at it. It would have to be him, and to get close to them—

Shorter did seem like he trusted Yut-Lung now, and this would ruin it. Yut-Lung sat up. He reached for his desk, pulling out the inkwells concealing the vials of Banana Fish. Only a few left. He lined them up on his desk, peering at them. Moonlight glittered against the smooth glass. The powder didn't so much as glint. It looked utterly lifeless.

 _I didn't think I could ever have this._ He could still hear the laughter.

He didn't want to see the look in Shorter's eyes when he realized Yut-Lung was going to ask him to go along with another scheme, even if he was being forthcoming, because how could he trust that Yut-Lung was being forthcoming? He didn't want to see the disgust in Sing's eyes when he realized Yut-Lung was all along planning on hurting Ash as well as his brothers, and Sing was smart enough to figure it out. And Ash would too, and he'd kill him, and while Yut-Lung was not sure he'd ever minded the idea, he did not want to see the horror on Eiji's face.

 _You love him. And he loves you._

 _I hated you for it. I wanted it._

 _Help me. Save me._

 _You said I was good, and I'm about to prove that I'm not._

Yut-Lung gripped his skull. Eiji had stopped him from hurting himself. For so long he'd thought Eiji pathetic, a burden who was just a security blanket, something that let Ash live in the delusion he desperately wanted to submerge himself in: a bed safe and warm, his mother just outside frying eggs and tomatoes for him, a locked door. Safety. Even if outside enemies lurked.

 _You were never pathetic, Eiji._

 _You saved them all._

He thought of Max, of the moment Yut-Lung had finally met his eyes and _understood_ , when Max was pulling him to his feet, and his lips curved. No one had ever used the fact that he was a child to benefit him. Only to sell him. Because it meant he was vulnerable. He couldn't even say he didn't understand anymore.

 _You're better than me. You're all better people than I am. And it's not because of being a Lee. I chose this._

A tear escaped, trickling down his cheek. He wiped it away, staring at it.

 _Nothing but a venomous snake._

He'd never thought he could be anything else.

 _I can try._

He knew what that would mean.

He moved as silent as a snake, one last time. He slid into Shorter's room. Shorter snored lightly, lying flat on his back, shirtless. He pressed a hand over Shorter's mouth to wake him up.

Shorter's eyes bulged. Yut-Lung held a finger to his lips before easing his hand off. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You're lucky I don't have my knife," Shorter mumbled, sitting up. His mohawk looked depressed, falling all over his head. "I swear I thought you were one of Arthur's goons and almost had a fucking heart attack. What's wrong? Are you okay?"

 _What's wrong. Ha._

 _Everything._

"I'm leaving," eked out Yut-Lung.

"To go where? Can't it wait for the morning?" Shorter looked longingly back at his pillow. "Sleep calls, Yut-Lung."

"You're not coming with me."

"So Sing is—"

"My brothers asked me to kidnap you again. Lure you out tomorrow, and kidnap you. They think you're involved in my brothers' deaths, you and Ash." Yut-Lung swallowed. "I'm not going to do it."

Shorter gaped at him. "You—why do they think that?" An ashen color crept into his skin, visible even in the dark lighting. "Well, I guess it's not entirely unexpected that they think that, but—"

Yut-Lung wanted to cry, scream like he hadn't since he was a child. "They think that because _that's what I told them._ I planned to play them and Ash against each other. I figured if someone were to take the fall, it wouldn't—" Yut-Lung drew in his breath. "You said it yourself. I'm a venomous snake. I told them Ash had the Banana Fish. I've been reporting on you all, some lies, some true things. I'm going back to them. I'll—take care of them, and quickly. And then you and Sing—there won't be a Lee family. You two can figure out how to save Chinatown. You're better suited for it, anyways."

"You were lying this whole time?" Shorter breathed. His chest heaved.

 _You—you believed me._

 _You did trust me. Against all the odds, despite what I did to you_. Yut-Lung lowered his head. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand. The hell are you coming to me now and—"

"Are you going to kill me?" Yut-Lung lifted his gaze and forced himself to meet Shorter's eyes. The color of ginger, they were.

Shorter's mouth opened as if remembering he'd once said that. He shook his head. " _No_."

He'd known that was what Shorter would say. And despite it all, he was disappointed. _You can't save me._

 _Please, save me. Or kill me. I can't handle this limbo._

"No one will hurt you or your sister," Yut-Lung forced himself to say. "I'll make sure it's taken care of quickly. My brothers are taken care of, that is. The next few days." He took a step back and reached into his pockets. He shoved a bag at Shorter. "Those vials are all the Banana Fish that's left. My brothers don't have any. They never did. That was also a lie. Golzine might have some, or else I'd think he'd be a lot more worried, but I don't know. Give it to Ash." He was backing up faster now. He couldn't stay here under that gaze, or else he might run, and running meant—

 _I'll be trapped._

"For the little I know it's worth, and for any part of you that might believe it," Yut-Lung said, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I am truly sorry, Shorter Wong, to you and Ash and Eiji and Sing. And I'm grateful I got to know you. All of you, but especially you."

He turned on his heel and stalked out. He pushed open the condo door, blinking as he entered the brightly lit hallways. He stumbled, pausing by the elevators.

He didn't hear footsteps behind him.

Yut-Lung found himself on the streets. The wind blew against his face.

 _I'm alone again, and this time it's all my fault_.

* * *

"Ash, wake up."

He heard the voice, but the blankets over him were warm and weighted, and he didn't particularly want to wake up just yet. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he could rest.

" _Ash."_

He dreamed of jumping through the waves on Cape Cod's beaches. Griffin was there, and the waves kept crashing on them, but if he ever slipped under Griffin's arms were secure around him, pulling him back to the surface. And under the water, under his covers, it was warm.

The light flicked on.

 _The fuck?_ Ash jerked up. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Eiji, standing by his bed in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes, hair tousled.

Oh right. He could surface, and he didn't have to be as afraid. Eiji was here, and Eiji loved him. He reached back to clasp Eiji's hand resting on his shoulder and spotted the culprit brazenly standing by the lights. "Shorter, what the fuck."

Shorter ran his hand through his mohawk, which looked deflated. "Yut-Lung's gone."

"Huh?" Eiji blinked.

"He just came into my room, woke me up, and told me he was going back to his brothers because he's been lying this entire fucking time, and—" Shorter gripped his head. "He's _gone."_

Ash scrambled to his feet. "What?" If Yut-Lung was—but he had just apologized to Max—

"He left this," Shorter added, tossing a bag onto the bed.

Ash squinted. The vials. His breath hitched. He knew what it was.

"He had it all along," Shorter said. He covered his face.

"What on earth," whispered Eiji. "I don't understand. Why would he do this? Where's he going to go? There's nowhere for him to go!" Eiji turned towards the door like he was about to run out onto the street in his pajamas to find Yut-Lung.

"He was lying," said Shorter, voice low. "He said played us. Again. He was telling his brothers you were assassinating them, Ash, that you had Banana Fish—he said they'd asked to kidnap me again—" His fists tightened. He couldn't look at them. "He said he was sorry. I think he meant it. I went after him. Onto the street, but he wasn't there. I hesitated because—I shouldn't have hesitated. But the time I made it outside, I couldn't find him."

 _You were going to prey on Shorter's worst fears again_? Ash wanted to smack that kid.

"Then why did he give you the Banana Fish?" Eiji asked. "Why did he—tell you all this? It doesn't make sense."

It did make sense. Ash closed his eyes. He thought of what he'd said to Max the day before.

" _I bought a ticket for Eiji to Japan."_

 _Max arched his eyebrows._

" _That was a week ago," Ash said. "He is supposed to—hate me by then. I promised Ibe. But—"_

 _Max leaned in. "He doesn't hate you?"_

He loves me _. Ash studied his hands. "I can't. I don't want to give him the ticket. I know if I tell him, he won't go—I should want him to go—I don't want him to go."_

If he goes, I'm scared. I'm scared of what I'll do. I'm scared of what I'll become. If he stays, I'm scared of what he'll become. I don't want to hurt him. I don't know how to not hurt him.

" _You know," Max said, rubbing his chin. "Ibe was saying to me the other night that he won't mind if Eiji stays a bit longer. He thinks you're good for him."_

 _Ash glared at the notch in the table. "How can I be good for anyone?" The only thing good about him was his face, his jade eyes, his blond hair, his leadership. Which he used to lead a gang because he was too stained and broken inside._

 _He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He hadn't meant to say a lot of things out loud recently. Like that he did love Eiji, and that terrified him._

At the very least, I want to be proud of you. I have to send you away to do that.

" _When I left Jessica," said Max. "It wasn't because I didn't love her. Or that I thought she was anything less than everything I wanted to spend my life with. I thought I was protecting her while I was taking a—dangerous assignment. I didn't protect her. I only hurt her by my lies and my lack of contact and—I hurt Michael, too, by hurting his mother." He swallowed._

 _Ash narrowed his eyes., "Are you getting back together?" His face was also heating up with Max comparing him and Eiji to Max and Jessica._

" _Shut up, you." Max pointed at him. "My point is, sometimes to protect people, to protect who they are, you have to let them take risks. You have to trust them. You have to listen to what they want in addition to what you want."_

" _Okay,_ Dad _."_

" _Don't give up,_ son _," Max retorted, and in that moment Ash almost heard Griffin._

"He's giving up," Ash said, dropping back onto the bed and burying his face in his hands.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Shorter demanded. But Ash knew from Shorter's tone that he was thinking exactly the same thing, and it was killing him.

Ash groaned. _We—you, Sing, Eiji—were all like what Eiji is to me_. Hope, and something alive, something that shone so brightly he went blind, something that exposed all his wounds to the air and bound them up. Someone that took his hand and said, _let's go._

And instead of sending Eiji away on a plane, Yut-Lung had sent himself away.

"He said he was going to finish them," Shorter said.

"Meaning the entire Lee clan, I'd guess," Ash mused. Yut-Lung himself included.

 _You are the same,_ Sing had said.

"He also said Golzine was coming back and he might have more Banana Fish." Shorter cussed.

"So he feels badly about it," Eiji insisted.

"He seemed pretty upset," Shorter whispered. His shoulders slumped like he was ashamed. "Even if he was shutting it down like he always does." He slammed his fist into the wall. "Why did I fucking hesitate? I shouldn't have; I should have run after him right away."

"Not quite always," Eiji said. His face was turning the same pale green shade of his pajamas. "Ash, we're not going to leave him there, are we?"

"What do you want me to do?" Ash demanded. "I don't—know what we _can_ do!" Max writing a story on Golzine was one thing, but that would take time. And in the meantime Arthur was still coming for them and Golzine probably had more Banana Fish, and Yut-Lung had just turned himself back over to his brothers like the idiot determined to make trouble just so people would notice him he was. _I'm going to punch you next time I see you._

"I don't know," said Shorter. "We should probably tell Sing to get his ass over here, though." He blew out his breath. "It's my fault."

"It is not," snapped Eiji.

"It is too," Shorter retorted. "If I'd just—talked to him—I was out of it, not even fully awake—too slow to catch him—"

"Definitely call Sing. And Max." Ash moaned. _I'm not endangering any of my guys for you, Yut-Lung!_ He had the feeling, though, that if he didn't, Eiji might act anyways. Eiji had that look on his face, the one in which he realized he was in way over his head and decided to swim instead of sinking and damn the sharks beneath him. Not only that, but fuck, Shorter was already in danger. He could tell from the guilt etching Shorter's face. It looked like the lines in his face when he came to apologize to Ash and Eiji after they broke out of Golzine's mansion. _You care about him._

"I was supposed to fight Arthur tomorrow night," Ash admitted.

Eiji glared at him. Shorter gulped, backing up when Eiji's glare turned from Ash to him.

"I have an idea," Ash said.

"If it relies on Arthur playing fair," Shorter snarled. "I hope you know that is absolutely, 100%, not happening. He's planning a dirty trick and you're honorable, aka stupid, enough to fall for it."

"I agree with Shorter," Eiji said.

Ash scowled. _Yut-Lung, I hate you right now._

 _I hate you because you're me._

 _Don't you dare give up, you moron. Don't you dare. Shorter needs you alive. So does Eiji. And I_ — _I want to live too._

* * *

 _I don't have any plan._

He felt more naked than he ever had before, showing up at Wang-Lung's place without the slightest semblance of a goal, a plan, a hope. All he had was himself, and he didn't even have the slightest clue what that was.

 _I failed._

 _Do you really want to kill your brothers?_ Ash's voice echoed.

 _No._ Not at this point. _I want them to kill me. No, I don't. But I_ have _to let them kill me._

"Young Master!"

 _Why do you serve me?_ He tugged his hair over the tattoo again. _You shouldn't. You knew. All of you knew that we didn't deserve any of this power, you saw what they did to my mother, you probably knew about it in advance, you let it happen. Why? Why? Why?_

He sat on the sofa, fiddling with a silk cushion. He had never felt at ease in this home. A clock ticked and tocked in the background.

"Would you like to see your brother—"

"Wang-Lung. Or Hua-Lung," said Yut-Lung. He wouldn't dishonor the dead. Or the living dead, with his presence. He felt his eyes burning. He doubled over.

Footsteps sounded. Yut-Lung peered up. Not his brother. A new bodyguard, with smooth dark hair and blue eyes. So his brothers were taking foreign aid now. How dire were their circumstances?

He hoped Shorter and Sing could figure it out. Sing was so smart; if there was a way to destroy the Lees, he would. And maybe, Yut-Lung hoped, his death might motivate that.

 _But I don't want to die._

 _Not really._

 _But I deserve to. And I'm not risking Shorter._

Two parts of him, warring, tearing him in two. He wanted to die and he wanted to live, but he couldn't live, but the more he knew he couldn't, the more he wanted to. He watched as a sliver of tangerine dawn emerged from a crack in the drapes to pierce the floor.

"So you're the youngest Lee brother."

Yut-Lung glanced at the bodyguard. "Indeed. And it seems like the Lee brothers are in increasingly short supply."

The man cast him a dark look.

"I'm unarmed." Yut-Lung held up his hands, spreading his fingers.

"Not true," said the bodyguard. "I don't think you ever are, unless you're gagged."

"Is that a threat?"

"Not hardly. I'm here to protect the Lees."

"Lives, or their feelings? You may find the latter impossible with all of us in a room together. Even if there are only three Lees left."

"Hm."

Yut-Lung pressed the tips of his fingers together. His jaw ached from clenching it so tightly.

Wang-Lung marched into the room. Yut-Lung jumped. He didn't remember the last time he'd acted so skittishly. And he'd been waiting for this, and he wasn't ready, not at all. His heart pounded inside his chest. He wanted to lie down, and sleep, but he wanted to wake up again too.

 _It's useless._

"You were supposed to bring Shorter Wong," Wang-Lung stated.

"I warned him," Yut-Lung said. "I told him everything."

Yut-Lung had never seen Wang-Lung look surprised before. His mouth opened.

"As for the rest of the Banana Fish," Yut-Lung says. "Ash never had it. I got rid of it."

"Explain yourself," said a voice from the doorway. Hua-Lung now, having just woken up clearly. He still had a crease from a pillow on his cheek.

"I hate you," said Yut-Lung. "I've always hated you, Wang-Lung. I hate you, I hate what you did to my mother, I hate that you whored me out to God knows how many people. I hate that you made me want this tattoo. I hate your house and I hate your wife and I hate everything about your backstabbing way of running things and I hate how you let your brothers do whatever they wanted to me and how you control everything because you're just afraid you'd lose control but you're too arrogant to really believe it, but you did lose control of me. _I hate you._ I want you to lose. I want—"

Wang-Lung lashed out. His fist collided with Yut-Lung's cheekbone. Yut-Lung fell backwards, hip slamming into the ground.

"Yut-Lung!" shouted Hua-Lung. "What are you saying?"

 _Don't even get me started on you._ But he still didn't want to say it out loud. _You raped me, again and again, and I'm still not sure there's any of me left._

"You killed them," breathed Wang-Lung, looking down on him like one would look at a viper after it'd already bitten you. " _You_."

Yut-Lung threw his head back. A laugh ripped out, tearing through him.

A crack. Wang-Lung kicked his ribs. Pain smashed through his abdomen. Yut-Lung grunted. Wang-Lung's knee pressed onto his sternum. His brother's fingers dug into his shoulder, flipping him off his side, onto his back.

 _You're going to kill me._

"Stop!" Hua-Lung shouted as Wang-Lung yanked out a knife.

"I'm going to gut him like the—"

"He's not in his right mind!" Hua-Lung shouted. "Can't you see?"

 _Don't try to defend me!_ Yut-Lung gagged.

"Then he's completely useless!" Wang-Lung shouted. "He killed—"

"He didn't say that!"

 _I did._ But Yut-Lung's mouth stayed closed. _Goddammit!_ _Death would be better than this. It would be. It would be._

He couldn't pry his jaw open. He met the eyes of the bodyguard, whose gaze flickered.

 _Help me._

No one would help someone who'd killed his own brothers.

 _But—_

 _Anyone. Please._

At the very least, whether or not they killed him, they would be rattled enough that if Ash wanted to make a move to end the Lee family, he should make it now.


	10. Beautiful Ones

_Hold on tight_  
 _Hope that you make it out alive_

 _~"Beautiful Ones," Hurts_

* * *

"Well, that's a problem." Sing gulped, lacing his fingers together behind his head. Eiji huddled on the floor, his face pale. Sing focused on Eiji, avoiding Ash or Shorter, and that was confirmation enough.

"You knew," Shorter said. "Didn't you?"

"I didn't!" Sing insisted. "I mean, well—" He cringed. "That he had the Banana Fish, yes, but I didn't think he was trying to play—I mean—" Sing's face turned red. "I should've said something. I—"

"Calm down," interjected Shorter. "I'm not pissed at you." He remembered the first time he was sentenced to juvie, where he'd meet Ash eventually. He hunched his shoulders in that courtroom, sure Nadia would shake her head at him if he turned around and met her eyes, but instead he felt her arms wrapping around him from behind. She wasn't mad. She was sad, for him.

To this day Shorter wondered if she didn't blame herself, think she was weak for not deterring him from the path he ran. The idea that he might make her feel like that... he felt sick. _I've always wanted to be you, if anything, Nadia._ Her name literally meant "hope." She was hope for their parents, and for him.

"You're not?" Sing's eyes widened. He glanced to Ash.

Shorter shook his head. He wasn't. But he needed to know what Sing knew. His chest stung when he thought of the look in Yut-Lung's amethyst eyes when he told Shorter he was going. Like he wanted Shorter to stop him. But Shorter felt a shameful collar closing around his throat, a collar crafted from the idea that Yut-Lung thought him weak enough to trick again, and by the time he realized the desperation in Yut-Lung's eyes and broke free, running into the street, Yut-Lung was gone, and for all the times Shorter hollered his name, he was still gone. Only strangers turned to stare.

"I'm kinda annoyed, but not with you, Sing," Ash said. "Okay? You don't have to look like you think I'll kick your ass. That's not the kind of person I am, unless you plan on double-crossing."

"Oh." Sing's shoulders dropped. "I don't."

"Good." Ash sighed. "And we need your guys' help. Breaking into the Lee family mansion."

Sing's jaw dropped. He looked at Shorter. "You're going to save him?"

"He is kind of the leader of Chinatown," Shorter pointed out. "And a friend at this point. I can't leave him there." None of his friends had given up on him when Golzine had him. Nadia never had either.

"And he has a massive crush on you," Sing said with a snort.

 _He what now?_ Shorter wrinkled his nose. "He does not." Well, aside from that pass he'd made at Shorter when he was drunk. But Yut-Lung was drunk then. It didn't mean anything. And he'd played Shorter for a fool when he first met him. He hardly had a high opinion of Shorter.

Though Shorter knew, now, that Yut-Lung thought him the furthest thing from a fool. He gave him the Banana Fish. _You trusted me._ _And I'm not gonna let you down._ The story Yut-Lung had told him about what his brothers did to his mother repeated itself inside Shorter's mind, like a horror film he couldn't turn off. _We'll get you out. I'm not leaving you to those snakes._

 _You're nothing more than a venomous snake_. The words, his own, slammed Shorter in the abdomen. He cringed. Yut-Lung was not a venomous snake. He was an animal bit by a venomous snake, scared of and biting any and everyone coming to help it.

"He does too, and I think we've already established that I am always right when it comes to people." Sing smirked and settled down next to Eiji.

"He does not, and stop saying that," Shorter snapped. He could only imagine if Sing heard their banter that day in the store. He thought of Yut-Lung offering him the Banana Fish again, confessing, asking if Shorter would kill him, turning to leave. The way he didn't even flinch when Shorter said he wouldn't kill him, and the way his lips had trembled like he'd known what Shorter's answer would be.

He'd changed from that time in LA. He was ashamed. He was trying.

 _If that's not hope, I don't know what it is._

"Fine. My guys will help if they see you believe we should do it, Shorter," Sing said.

"It's still going to be next to impossible," Shorter admitted, massaging his temples. _I can't believe I'm doing this._ Going against everything he had lived so far. The Lees and their protection. The streets he grew up on. To protect the few things he knew he cared about.

Is _it worth it?_

 _Yes_. Even if it ended badly, it was worth it. For Ash and Eiji, Sing, Nadia, Yut-Lung. Shorter set his jaw. _You give me hope, Yut-Lung. Like Ash, like Eiji. I will save you._

"My guys are more than capable of espionage," said Sing.

"It's not me," muttered Shorter. "Your guys will do it because they look up to you, Sing."

"You seem like a great leader," Ash said. "Even if you're fourteen."

Sing looked as if he couldn't decide whether to yell at them or thank them. Shorter bit back a grin. Eiji smiled.

"Look," said Sing. "You were going to have Cain Blood witness you and Arthur's fight, right?"

"Right," said Ash. Eiji pressed his lips together.

"Cain's help would be useful," said Sing. "And he doesn't hate Chinatown. And Black Sabbath probably doesn't want to pick a fight with us."

"What are you thinking?" demanded Eiji.

"Just trust Arthur to do what Arthur does best and play a dirty trick," said Shorter, picking up on Sing's line of thought.

"It's a tactic I call _what would Yut-Lung do,_ " said Sing. "Expect the worst and meet them there."

"But don't do anything if he doesn't try anything sketchy," Ash cut in. "Then I'll beat him on my own."

"Or you won't," Eiji said quietly.

Ash swallowed. "Or I won't."

Eiji's brow was furrowed. "I'll go with you."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"I don't care," Eiji said, crossing his arms.

"Well, I do," Ash said. He glanced at Shorter, face twisting. He dropped his chin to his chest. " _I don't want you to see me like that."_

"Why?" demanded Eiji. "Why? Why do you want to keep me from seeing you doing something? Do you think I'm going to go away if I see you do something ugly enough? Yut-Lung is my friend too! I have to help!"

"Shut up!"

Shorter rubbed his jaw, glancing at Sing. That was exactly what Ash was afraid of, of course: that Eiji would leave. He knew that.

"Yes," Ash spat out, watching Eiji. "So what?" He slid his gaze to Sing, as if wondering whether the boy's respect would slip away.

Eiji knelt in front of Ash, peering into his eyes. "Then fight like you would want me to see you fight. Because if you think I want to see you just roll over and die, you're wrong. I don't want to see you kill, that's true. So figure something out. You're smart enough."

"But—" Ash covered his mouth. And then he said the words Shorter knew: "I don't want you to see me fight at all."

"But you have to," said Eiji. "This is your world right now. You have to. And it sucks. So let's use this goddamn fight to change something."

"Did he actually swear," mumbled Sing.

"Fucking hell, he did. I'm proud," said Shorter.

"That's what Shorter and Sing are doing, right? Changing something about how things work. And Yut-Lung, though he's trying to bury himself with everyone else in the Lee syndicate, but we won't let him if we have to drag him out ourselves."

"I don't—"

"You don't have to do it because you're talented, or because you're special, or because you've done better or worse things, or deserve it or don't deserve it," insisted Eiji. His voice broke. "Just because _I want that for you._ And it's selfish of me. But I can't pretend I don't want that for you." He wiped at his eyes.

A new way.

Shorter had no idea what his life would look like if he were to leave a life of running on the streets. He couldn't even imagine it. But Eiji was being honest here, cracking open his chest and revealing a beating heart inside. And Shorter knew Ash well enough to know Ash wouldn't stomp on it.

 _What kind of life do you want Sing to have?_ Shorter wondered. _Or me. Or Yut-Lung. Or Eiji._ Because no matter what Ash chose in the end, Eiji was forever intertwined with his life.

"I want you to live—however you can, or want to. I don't want you to keep trying to die."

"I'm not trying to die!"

Shorter closed his eyes. He thought of the look in Yut-Lung's eyes when he handed him the Banana Fish. A mind-control substance. Golzine didn't really need it to control Ash, to sink him into a world of never-ending nightmares. But Ash still didn't want Griffin to die, still had hope, and before he died, he remembered. Maybe. Maybe there could be some kind of hope, or not.

 _Are some of us too broken?_

 _That's why you went back, isn't it, Yut-Lung? You think there's no hope, but you are hope to me.  
_

 _You're not too broken. You're not. You're not._

"Ash, you're seventeen," Eiji said. "If you think you've done too much, do good then. And when you're tired, rest, and do good for yourself. I'll be here. And even if you decide you don't want me around anymore, you won't be alone, because my soul is always with you."

* * *

"Don't die," Eiji said.

"Okay," Ash said, looking at him, and he meant it. The sky lit with stars, even though New York's lights eclipsed most of them. The moon shone, and the air, mild for the end of October, was windless.

Eiji really couldn't witness the fight. Arthur wouldn't think it fair without any of his guys around either, and Cain wouldn't be impressed by Eiji's insistence that since he wasn't really a part of any gang, he didn't count. So Ash had him waiting around the corner. Knowing Eiji he was probably going to befriend Cain's guys in a hot minute.

Shorter and Sing had been gone all day and hadn't contacted him, and Ash had told Max what they were planning. Max didn't try to talk him out of it, surprisingly. He just told him to be safe.

 _I'm never safe._

 _But when I'm with you, Eiji..._

The only other person who ever said "be safe" to him and meant it was Griff.

When they were kids, Griffin made wooden swords for them out of sticks, and they would pretend to fight as knights, sticks clacking against each other, laughing and laughing. Griff let him win until Ash got mad and demanded he actually not let him win, at which point Griff knocked Ash flat on his ass on the crunchy leaves of a Cape Cod woods. He held out his hand to pull Ash back to his feet, and they both laughed.

He was so in awe of how strong his brother was.

 _Am I strong, Griffin? Am I strong enough?  
_

 _I don't want anyone to hurt me anymore. I don't want anyone to hurt them anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore._

This fight, with Arthur, had real knives involved. He swallowed. He almost wished that this didn't have to happen. But he had to shove this out of his mind.

"Begin," Cain said.

Knives slashed through the air. Ash twisted. _Injure him. Try not to kill him._ If he could get to Arthur's ligaments without—

A rumbling echoed behind him. _Huh?_ "Train!"

He knew that was impossible. But—one was definitely coming— _Sing—Shorter—did you guys_ —if Arthur had caught them, he would surely have taunted Ash with it by now.

 _Be safe._

 _I can't be. Not while I keep doing this._

 _Eiji, I promised—_ Nails of fury shot through him. "You _bastard_."

The blade stopped in front of Arthur's, and he saw the glint in his muddy green eyes. "Time for you to die." And then like a rat, he turned and raced away.

 _Fuck!_

Ash dove behind a pillar. Shit, Cain had his gun— _Shorter, Sing—_

 _I want to live._

The train doors opened.

"Get him; he's unarmed!" Arthur's voice called.

 _You—_

"Hello, _bitch_."

 _Shorter?_

Ash whirled around. Cain stepped out from behind another pillar.

"Dear me," said Sing's voice. He stepped out from another door on the train. "Arthur, it appears your men were coming to mow down your enemies, as well as the leader of Black Sabbath. Rather problematic of you. They came heavily armed with guns when they boarded, but of course, they're all incapacitated inside the train right now. Chinatown isn't really a fan of dirty tricks." He clucked his tongue.

Arthur's face whitened. Cain turned, his eyes darkening as if he was contemplating breaking the man's neck.

Shorter cocked one of the guns, aiming it at Arthur.

"So you played a dirty trick of your own?" Arthur snapped.

"On the contrary," said Sing. "We just exposed you for what you are: a steaming turd. Also, Chinatown has other concerns. Like that the mafia guy who holds your leash is working with the Lees, who have kidnapped our benefactor and whom I'd like back. Thanks."

"Kidnapped?" Arthur snorted. "He—"

"Oh good, so you _are_ aware," said Sing. "That'll make this easier."

Ash got to his feet. He struggled to keep his jaw closed. _Sing, Shorter, you really came through._

"Are you serious?" demanded Cain.

"See for yourself," Shorter said, stepping back and gesturing towards the train. Ash peered inside with Cain, Shorter keeping the weapon trained on Arthur. Arthur's minions lay there, in various stages of unconscious, guarded by Sing's guys.

Cain pulled out Ash's gun, turning on Arthur.

"You can't kill me here," Arthur said, taking a step back and looking to Cain. "It'll look like—"

"Actually, I'm not gonna do a thing about it if they try," Cain said.

"I'm not interested in killing you here," said Shorter. "I mean, let's be real: I _am_ , but I probably shouldn't. Where is Yut-Lung Lee?"

Arthur snorted. "What?"

"Talk," Ash ordered. Cain tossed him his gun and whistled. Several of his men appeared on the stairs. Arthur blanched.

"Your fingers aren't going to be the only thing broken about you," Ash said. "So answer their question, you piece of shit. Where's Yut-Lung?"

"He's at their home; where else would he be?"

"I'm tired," said Shorter with a yawn. A shot cracked through the air. The bullet narrowly—purposefully—missed Arthur. Concrete dust exploded into the air from where it'd struck the pillar behind him.

Arthur flinched. "I know Wang-Lung Lee offered Golzine another test subject for Banana Fish," Arthur said. "Though I'm not sure the other brother agrees; they were fighting but—"

"You're such a coward," said Cain in disgust.

"You won't be able to do anything about it," Arthur said. "That place makes Golzine's mansion look—"

"Someone shut him up; I'm bored now," said Shorter.

Cain punched Arthur in the back of the head.

"Leave him," said Ash. "Now everyone knows he's a whiny brat. Take all the guns from the guys on the train."

The fresh air of the Halloween night filled his lungs as he climbed the stairs.

"Ash!" Eiji raced towards him, relief sagging all his features. "You're alive!"

 _I'm alive. I made it. I kept a promise._ A lump grew in Ash's throat. _I'm alive, and I'm glad._

"Who's this?" asked Cain.

"Ash's friend," said Sing.

"So when are you planning on sticking it to the Lees and Golzine?" Cain wanted to know.

* * *

"If I see Arthur there, he dies," Cain said. "Fucking coward."

"Fine by me," said Shorter.

Sing snorted. Shorter peered out the window of the condo, head resting against the glass.

 _Tonight_. They'd break into the Lees' place. Arthur would try to warn them, but seeing as he probably didn't want his latest humiliation know, Sing honestly wouldn't be shocked if he tucked tail and ran. It probably would have been smarter to kill him.

But Ash didn't, because of Eiji. Or really, because of _Ash_ , Sing figured. Ash didn't want to.

Ash's men liked him for the same reason Cain's men liked him. He didn't put leashes on them. Basic rules, sure, but nothing too confining. Sing wanted to be the same. But it still looked to be imprisoning Ash. He laughed more freely when he was with Eiji, or Max, or Shorter or really any of them. But he probably still felt obligated to lead his gang.

He dropped down next to Shorter. "Hey."

"Hey," said Shorter.

"You know," said Sing. "It's funny. You're actually repaying Yut-Lung his favor. First they were gonna use Banana Fish on you so he set you free, and now they're gonna use it on him, so you'll set him free."

"Hopefully." Shorter tipped a beer towards his mouth.

 _You know that. And you don't want to let him down. You don't want to let any of your friends or loved ones down. It's your greatest weakness, and your greatest strength. That's why I admire people like you and Ash. You take other people seriously. Mostly._

"Don't worry," said Sing. "I don't think you could let him down."

When it was time, they snuck around the house, hedged with thick plants and guarded by way too many bodyguards. Golzine was supposed to arrive this evening. Sing curled his fingers, wondering what was happening inside. They weren't too late, he was sure of that. But it'd been two days. He hoped Yut-Lung could still hold it together. Despite his glass appearance he could tell that Yut-Lung's skin had been barely holding him together before he'd left.

"Listen," said Ash. "I don't want—"

"Have we not been through this before?" Eiji snapped.

"God, they fight like an old married couple," complained Cain, setting down his binoculars.

"No," said Ash. "You don't—"

"I _want_ to help rescue my friend, okay, Ash? He's—"

Yut-Lung would probably complain if he heard Eiji call him a "friend," while clinging to the term and using it every change he got afterwards. Shorter almost smiled.

"I don't want to be useless out here!" Eiji scowled. "I don't like being treated like—your weakness."

Ash cussed. "You're not."

"Then let me—"

"No, Eiji, listen to me, okay? I don't want you to come inside not because you're a weakness, but because you're a strength, all right? You don't have to be good at fighting to help us out here. You and I both know this 'friend' of yours is not going to be in great shape when we get him out, whether he's angry or hurt or God only knows. So my goal is to get him outside fast while we take down Arthur, Golzine, and his brothers. We know where he probably is. Outside _to you_ , because he's going to need someone to hold him together, okay? That's your strength. That's what you do best."

Sing shrugged. Ash wasn't wrong.

"Oh," said Eiji. "Okay."

Ash smiled.

"Hey," said Shorter, rising. "I see a dark car driving up."

"Golzine?" Sing's heart pounded.

"Yeah."

* * *

His prison might have windows, but they were locked. A bed, but he couldn't get up and go anywhere, just wander in circles around this room. They didn't even give him any ink or paper. Probably smart, but Yut-Lung still resented them for that, as well as for the unforgiveable crime of leaving him alive because with each passing hour his will to live faded even more. He sat on the window seat, watching twilight shred the day with lavender and crimson clouds.

"Food," said a voice at the door. That stupid bodyguard, the one who looked like a stone-cold murderer, opened the door. He put a plate on the dresser.

Yut-Lung wrapped his arms around his legs. "Can you deliver a message to my brothers?"

"That depends."

"Why? You were hired to protect the Lee family, right? I'm still technically a part of it. Biologically." Yut-Lung tilted his face up.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to ask them to just kill me already, or give me something sharper than a plastic knife so I can do it myself," Yut-Lung stated. "If Hua-Lung is worried about me soiling his bed with my blood, he can move me to a different room."

The man's eyebrows arched. "What would stop you from using it on them?"

 _The fact that I hate myself more than them._ But he didn't say anything.

"Hua-Lung wants to spare you," said the bodyguard.

 _No, he doesn't._ _He just wants to use me again and again, like a doll._ Yut-Lung clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth throbbed.

"Wang-Lung wants to inject you with Banana Fish," the man added.

Yut-Lung stiffened. And then he guffawed. _Of course. Of course_. "Can't be worse than this nightmare."

The guard studied him. "I heard you set a friend free to start all this. Who was supposed to be getting injected with Banana Fish."

"He's not my friend," Yut-Lung said. His chest smarted. Shorter had said they were, but surely now that he knew Yut-Lung had initially intended to play them, he wouldn't still consider Yut-Lung a friend.

"Because he didn't come to save you?"

"No, because we're not friends. Like you would understand." Yut-Lung turned back towards the window. He pressed his cheek against the glass. "You've probably never had a friend in your life."

"And you grew up with lots of them, I see. So much that you have no idea what a friend is or does so you say you're not friends, because he can't save you."

"Excuse me?" Yut-Lung glared. "Why are you doing this? Do you care? Or do you just want to see me die? Let them give me Banana Fish; I don't care anymore. Or, if you care and if your contract does, in any way, apply to me, please kill me yourself or give me the means to end my own life. I wouldn't mind either way." _Because you've been nice enough_.

 _No one else in this house even remotely has._ A lump grew in his throat.

The guard slipped out without answering him. A few minutes later Hua-Lung arrived. Yut-Lung scrambled to his feet. "Did the bodyguard tell you I—"

"Blanca?" Hua-Lung frowned. "No, he had to address a security breach, or a squirrel loose on the lawn. How horrifying. But Golzine wants the utmost precaution after what you helped do to his house."

"So it's tonight," said Yut-Lung. "I imagine he'll be happy to get revenge on me."

"I'm going to stop him," said Hua-Lung.

Yut-Lung let out a laugh. "Why? I already said I—" Fear snaked through his fingers. He knew. He knew why, and he would rather face a lifetime of nightmares than this. _Make me literally your doll, not this! Take my mind away, please, it can't be a worse nightmare than this hell._

 _My mind was never useful. Nothing about me ever has been._

"I think having you alive can help bring peace to Chinatown," said Hua-Lung, approaching. His hand slid down Yut-Lung's shoulder. "Shorter and the others will at least need to see that you're alive."

 _Before you kill them._

"I don't know whether he made a move first or you did," said Hua-Lung. "But I'm sure it's his influence. You like him."

 _Fuck_. "I don't."

"You are a good liar, but it's too late this time." Hua-Lung cupped his face, forcing Yut-Lung to look up at him. "You'd offer your life for his. You already have, by coming here. You're still a hormonal teenager; I understand."

 _It's not like that! He's nothing like you!_

"A Lee shouldn't sully himself with some random gang leader," said Hua-Lung. "Even if he hadn't been negatively influencing you against us, he would have to die."

"It's not like that!" Yut-Lung insisted. He jerked free of his brother. He had to convince him to leave Shorter and the others alone. But he already knew it was impossible. "We've never—I mean—I've never—he's never touched me; I've never—there is no need to—"

"Saving you will take all the influence I have with Wang-Lung. Your _friends_ are beyond hope." Hua-Lung wrapped his arms around Yut-Lung.

Yut-Lung dropped his head. His eyes stung. His nose felt blocked. The words lashing him the most were the ones he believed. _I can't. I can't. You can't hurt them._

 _ _I can't save anyone. Not my mother. Not myself_. Failure. Failure. Useless. Nothing. Failure. _

_In the end, I never had any value besides a name inked to my skin, a value for a thing.  
_

"Your friends are going to die."

 _Your friends._

 _My friends._

 _Friends._ He remembered Eiji's arms around him, embracing him. Ash, asking him because he knew the answer, he knew that neither of them had an answer. Shorter, laughing with him, Sing, calling him his big brother.

"Don't cry," said Hua-Lung. "I hate it when you cry. I can't look at you."

 _I am not your thing._

"Don't look at me, then," Yut-Lung said.

* * *

 _Good job, Eiji and Bones_. To appease Eiji, Ash agreed to let him work with Bones to set off the alarm, so long as he returned to the side street. It wasn't hard to get the code to one of the back doors. Shorter made his way to the room he'd been told was Yut-Lung's. He heard the sound of servant chattering in Chinese and ducked behind a corner, waiting for them to pass. So far, they didn't realize anything was amiss.

He pushed on the handle. It opened.

 _Unlocked?_

Red-hot panic engulfed him. Shorter ducked inside. _Please don't be—_

Empty.

Yut-Lung wasn't there.

Breath whooshed out of Shorter. He turned around, spotting Ash. He shook his head. "He's not here."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ash asked as the sound of more voices grew closer.

Shorter narrowed his eyes. He waited until the voices stopped, and one set of feet headed in their direction and another in the opposite. He leaped out, grabbing the small woman and shoving her back against the wall.

She was familiar. The one from LA.

"Hey," said Shorter, pressing the blade into her throat. "Remember me?"

She let out a stuttering gasp. Ash cocked his gun, aiming at her head.

"Where is he?"


	11. Somebody to Die For

**Please, please, please be careful with the first section, as it could be disturbing. It's not graphic, but if it could be triggering, please feel free to skim or skip.**

* * *

 _I've got nothing left to live for_

 _Got no reason yet to die_

 _But when I'm standing in the gallows_

 _I'll be staring at the sky_

 _Because no matter where they take me_

 _Death I will survive_

 _And I will never be forgotten_

 _With you by my side_

 _~"Somebody to Die For," Hurts_

* * *

 _You don't even care that I hate you._

Because he was just a thing to them. A thing that didn't matter. A beautiful doll good for only one thing, like they'd said long ago. That was all he had ever been to them, and he was so sick of it.

His mind retreated, blurring the boundaries between here and then, this night and a night one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten years ago.

The last discernable word she'd said was his name. It was before they'd started hurting her. " _Yut-Lung."_

The moon, he was named for. She used to track moon cycles with him. It was a new moon the night they killed her. No light. No stars. He couldn't even open his mouth to say " _Mother"_ before they'd driven the knife in. Not even though Hua-Lung had removed his hand from holding his mouth shut.

 _Was it a betrayal, to you? That I didn't fight for you? That I let them hurt you without a word? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanted you to help me, and I couldn't even help you._

A part of him knew, though. She wouldn't have wanted him to disobey. She didn't want him to die. _I really do think, at the very least, you loved me._

 _I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I've become—this. Their tool, and them._

 _I'm all wrong, except that you loved me._ She'd wrap her arms around him, singing him a lullaby, telling him a fairytale before he fell asleep more nights than not. He knew it'd been a difficult labor for her, because one time Yut-Lung overheard his father saying so. She'd needed a cesarean section. When they killed her, he saw her scar.

 _"Watch," Hua-Lung commanded when his mother sobbed. "Don't shut your eyes."_

 _"Keep them open," another brother said as the knife appeared._

 _And Yut-Lung kept them open as they drove the knife in, only so he could hate them._

But now he didn't have to watch Hua-Lung, see his own reflection in his brother's glassy eyes, or the blank ceiling. He had no goals except that he did not want to be his brother's thing, but Hua-Lung was still too strong. But... _I don't have to pretend anymore, at the very least_. That part of him was free. His eyes squeezed shut, muscles around his sockets tightening. _I'm not your thing. I'm not yours. I'm not you._

"Open your eyes," snapped his brother.

Yut-Lung refused to react. No matter what, he wouldn't.

"You are—"

Something creaked. The door? A footstep, two.

Panic simmered inside him. He didn't want anyone, not Wang-Lung or a bodyguard or a maid, _seeing_ , even though they all knew. He preferred the lies. He pushed against his brother, eyes still glued shut. "Hua—"

" _You bastard son of a bitch!"_

Yut-Lung's eyes snapped open just as Hua-Lung's scream started and, as quick as it began, dissolved into a garble. Hot liquid struck Yut-Lung's face, his chest. He saw a curtain of red falling onto him, and then felt his brother fall onto him, pinning him, dead.

Blood leaked out all around him.

Yut-Lung didn't have time to think. He scrambled backwards, struggling to get out from under from a dead man. He was soaked in his brother's blood. He spat droplets out. He looked up, expecting to see that bodyguard, deranged, or—

Not Shorter, holding a stained knife. Lips parted. Shocked. And Ash, green eyes narrowed. Eyes hard.

The air pressed cold, parts of him too warm, and he heard his voice screaming then, and he had no control over it because he had no control over anything and this, this reality scalded because it shouldn't be happening and he'd now lose the one thing he wanted to take with him to the grave, the respect of someone he respected.

" _I don't want you to see me like this!"_

The words tasted metallic, honest, like blood.

He wrapped his arms around his body, trying to cover himself, but even if he could, the blood was everywhere. A stain. His brother was dead and he was still here.

They knew now. He wasn't just a hidden bastard child and a prostitute. _I fucked my own brother. Again and again and again._

"Get out! Go away—why are you even here?" he screamed. "Go away; leave me _alone!"_ He pounded his fist on the mattress, doubling over. _Disgusting! Trash. Revolting. I'm a poisoned snake, writhing._

Something pressed down on his shoulders. _Huh?_

A jacket. Shorter wrapped it around him, covering him. He could tell who it was by the callouses on Shorter's hands.

Tears streamed down Yut-Lung's face. He couldn't look up at him. Or forward at Ash. _You saw my brother fucking me._

 _Why are you doing this?_ A gasp tried to break through his lips. He couldn't let it. _Help me._

"We're rescuing you," said Ash. "And ending this, but also rescuing you. You said it yourself before: I don't leave loved ones behind. Or loved ones of loved ones."

 _Huh?_ Yut-Lung knotted the blanket up in his hands. Blood squeezed over them. "I—you _saw_ —" The only people who might care were Shorter and Sing and Eiji, and now that Shorter had seen and Ash would tell Eiji and Shorter would tell Sing and they would all know. _Your terrifying mob boss is a little boy who lets his brother fuck him. How can he offer anything useful, when he can't even fight him off?_

 _I never even tried. I always just laid down and opened my legs and let him. I learned what he liked and tried to make him happy. Tonight was the only time I so much as disobeyed by closing my eyes._

"I just reacted," Shorter managed. Yut-Lung focused on his knuckles, clenched so tightly around the knife that they were white like bone. "I'm sorry—I killed him without thinking—I just saw what he was _doing_ and I—"

"I hate people like that," Ash said, and then he fell silent.

Yut-Lung lifted his head finally, looking at Ash. _How do you do it?_ He didn't even know how to ask. He shook all over. His teeth chattered.

"Fuck," said Ash. "Fuck. Yut-Lung—dammit, I need Eiji—don't blame yourself for this, okay? No one deserves that."

 _Aren't you doing all this because you blame yourself? You don't believe you deserve to live?_ "What—I _do_." The words came out thick and slimy, but honest. He met Ash's gaze again. _If you want to blame me, if you want to hurt me, here I am. You said once you'd kill me. Now is your chance._

"Bullshit," snarled Shorter. " _He's_ the pervert, not you."

"We're going to get you out of here," Ash repeated, his gaze sliding towards the window. A full moon glowed.

But… "I thought—no one ever came." He realized Shorter's hand was still gripping his shoulder. He hadn't recoiled in disgust.

 _Help me._

 _You broke into my brothers' mansion to get me out._

"We came now," said Shorter. His voice cracked. His fingers stroked Yut-Lung's tangled hair.

"Why?" _I don't know if I can leave this room. I'm scared. Part of me wants to die here._

"I don't know," said Ash, as if he understood exactly what Yut-Lung was asking. _Why_.

Shame settled in his stomach, weighing him down. A sob finally broke through his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Shorter snapped. Yut-Lung finally craned his neck back, looking up at him. His lips were pale, his sunglasses shifted down his nose, and his eyes were furious, but they softened when they met his.

 _Not at me._

 _You really don't blame me?_

Ash swore as he checked his phone. "No offense, but Sing said we need to get moving." He yanked open one of the bureau drawers.

"Sing?" Yut-Lung managed. "He's here?"

"Yeah, plus all our gangs, and Black Sabbath with Cain Blood, because Arthur decided it was a good idea to piss everyone in the city off," Ash said.

"I don't want them to see me," Yut-Lung whispered. "I don't want them to know."

"Ash and I aren't saying a word," said Shorter. "Promise."

Ash grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt from the dresser, holding them out to Yut-Lung.

Yut-Lung swallowed. "I need to—rinse off. Quickly." The blood felt sticky on his palms.

"Yeah."

Yut-Lung ducked into the bathroom, quickly washing the blood down the drain. He didn't have the time to scrub it from his hair, or to scour his body like he usually did after Hua-Lung's assaults. He didn't even let himself think beyond the mechanics of getting the crimson liquid down the drain, which seemed ironic because this house was about to become a bloodbath. The shirt Ash had grabbed him was too large, but it worked.

He opened the door to find Shorter had pulled the sheets over Hua-Lung's body. He offered the jacket back to Shorter.

Shorter waved his hand. "Keep it; it's cold out."

Yut-Lung lowered his head.

"Okay," said Ash. "Our goal is to get you out of here and to Eiji. And I'm going to get Golzine, and—"

"I can—"

"I know you _can_. It's not about _can_. I wish someone had told me I didn't _have to,_ sometimes," Ash said. His face flushed. He was breathing hard.

 _Have to._

 _I don't know what it'd be like to live without that._

 _You don't, either, but you understand._

Yut-Lung swallowed. He nodded. "Please make sure Wang-Lung doesn't get away," he requested.

Ash cocked his gun. "Not a chance."

"He wasn't—" Yut-Lung swallowed. "He'd never—not like—"

"Don't care."

"Good."

Ash met Shorter's expression. "Take care of him."

"Will do," Shorter promised. He tucked his knife away, brandishing a gun.

"Ash," said Yut-Lung.

Ash paused in the doorway.

"Don't die," said Yut-Lung. "Eiji will never forgive you." _I'll never forgive you, either. Not for me._ "You don't have to die."

"Okay," Ash said, before ducking away, and finally Yut-Lung understood what made Ash beautiful to so many.

Shorter's hand landed on his shoulder, wrapped in Shorter's jacket. "Let's get out of here."

 _Being stuck on rescue brigade while the others fight—you're really stepping down as Chinatown's leader, aren't you?_

"Okay," Yut-Lung whispered.

* * *

 _Set it off,_ Ash told Sing.

He felt the pipe bomb go off even from his place on the second floor. The building shook. Ash gritted his teeth. Memories clawed at him, but he couldn't afford to dive into them now. Not when he had to survive.

It helped him survive, this repression. But otherwise—it was killing him.

 _After. To Eiji. I need to let it out. You won't run, will you?_

 _You two are the same._ Sing hadn't been wrong. Ash cocked his gun and whipped around the corner. A servant shrieked. "Golzine," said Ash. "Where is he?"

"Down-downstairs," stammered the woman.

"Get out," Ash warned, stepping around her. The hallway stretched down towards a darkened stairway. "Or else you'll die."

"You sure about that?"

The voice was familiar. Ash stiffened, turning around. He shouldn't have been surprised that Golzine would call him for assistance, especially since this man had made him who he was.

"Your weapon's not even aimed at me," Ash said. "Blanca."

"No," the man agreed. "Not yet."

"I don't care what you do to me," said Ash. "I never have. But—" His mind raced. If Blanca found Eiji, or Yut-Lung or Shorter—

"Same old, same old," said Blanca. "You'll lose them eventually."

"Not tonight," Ash replied. The sound of gunfire peppered another part of the house. _I can't beat him. There's no way I can beat him._

He would try. And he didn't want to. His hand tightened around the trigger of his own weapon.

" _Don't die," Yut-Lung had said._

Eiji hadn't even said it before he'd sent them inside. He'd just looked at Ash, and he knew. He was afraid. And he should be.

 _There's a part of me that didn't want to make it out._

 _But Eiji loves me. Even though I'm dragging my feet._

"You have a different look in your eyes," Blanca commented.

"Huh? Make some sense when you talk, old man."

"You're fighting."

"I'm always fighting."

"No," said Blanca. "You weren't."

 _Are you fighting to die or to live_? Ash took a step back. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to start making sense or—"

"I already am." Blanca shrugged. "It seems I was hired to protect the Lee family, and to bring you in. But I see I can't to the latter, and as to the former, well, there are two on opposing sides. A bit difficult of a decision, don't you think?"

 _I don't understand. Of course you can beat me. You always could._

"Go," said Blanca. "Golzine's probably barricading himself in the parlor." He tossed Ash a key. "In case he's locked it. I have to go ensure the youngest Lee gets out alive."

* * *

"Fuck!" Shorter's arm flew out, pinning Yut-Lung back against the wall. He peered around the corner. One of Sing's gang members had bled out on the floor, and two bodyguards talked into their phones. The bitter scent of blood filled the air. They were trying to make their way to a side door, but—

The guards were talking in Chinese. "They say to get a guy with a purple mohawk. Taking him out is the priority."

 _What?_ Shorter's jaw dropped. _The Lees are putting a hit on_ me?

Yut-Lung covered his eyes.

"Apparently they've heard exaggerated rumors about my skill with a gun," Shorter hissed as the men began to walk away.

Yut-Lung slid his eyes to him, brow furrowed.

"I mean, I'm good," Shorter said quickly. "Just not Ash-levels."

"That's not why they're after you," said Yut-Lung, his usually perfect hair tangled around his face. Shorter had to look away. Every time he saw that image in his mind—what that brother had been doing to Yut-Lung—he felt a visceral pain in his chest, like something with talons was grabbing his organs and crunching them. If he'd had time to think, he'd have made sure Hua-Lung suffered. But the moment he'd entered that room, he only knew he had to make that man _stop_.

A bruise marred Yut-Lung's cheek. Wang-Lung had probably kicked the shit out of him, too. _Bastards_. He hated them.

"I know, I'm the leader, or so they think." Really, Sing was.

Yut-Lung frowned but didn't say anything. Shorter almost missed his snark.

 _Oh._

 _Ohhhhh_. Shorter's eyes popped.

 _A Lee_ does _have a crush on me_. Shorter's jaw dropped. _And they know about it?_

"What?" hissed Yut-Lung.

"Nothing," Shorter managed. _You have a crush on me._

 _For real? Why?_

"You smile at the strangest times," Yut-Lung commented.

"Someone has to." Shorter reached out, squeezing his shoulder. "We're going to get out of here, I promise. I'll protect you." _I'm not going to let them hurt you again. And if that means I have to get out of here too, I will. Never again._

Yut-Lung nodded.

 _You went back here to protect me_. The realization nauseated Shorter. He couldn't breathe. _Yut-Lung, why?_

A bullet struck the wall just above Shorter's head. Plaster and wood smacked into his cheekbone. Yut-Lung grabbed him, yanking him back.

 _Fuck!_ No, he wasn't failing. Not with Yut-Lung. Not today _. You went back to hell for me, so I'm going to get you out of here. No matter what._

More gunfire erupted. The guards were coming back, but someone else was coming from the other direction and engaging them. Shorter whipped around the corner. "Stay back!"

Cain was there. Shorter took out one of the guards before they killed him. Two of his men were wounded. Cain charged the last guard, knocking the weapon from his hand and breaking it. He looked past Shorter. "That the kidnapped boss? He does look like a damsel in distress."

Yut-Lung's snake-like glare reappeared. Good. He never thought he'd be so relieved to see that expression on Yut-Lung's face.

"He's not," Shorter said. "I'm the one who almost got shot, but he yanked me back." He brushed the scrape on his cheek from the shards of wood. Blood stained his fingertip.

"Where's Ash?"

"He went downstairs," Yut-Lung said. "To the left of the dining room, and—"

Another bullet shattered the glass window behind Cain's head. Shorter whirled. Behind them, reinforcements. And more to the side. _Oh fuck!_ Another one of Cain's men went down. Cain swore.

"This way!" Yut-Lung grabbed Shorter and gestured to Cain, kicking open what looked like a closet.

"Are you fucking—"

It wasn't a closet. It was stairs, to a basement. Shorter barreled after Yut-Lung, Cain on his heels. Cain locked the door.

"There's a door to the outside down here," said Yut-Lung, panting. A bullet fired behind them, shooting the lock off. "This way." He wove around some dusty, disregarded chairs. He made no sound when he walked, like a ghost.

A bullet flew from where he pointed to the exit. Shorter felt its wind on his face.

 _We're trapped._

He barely had time to realize it before Cain grabbed both of them, shoving them through another door. Dressers and desks were piled in dusty corners. There was no light.

"There's no way out of this room!" Yut-Lung screamed. He clutched his face, and Shorter saw the horror that they all just might die for him, and he wasn't worth it, because—

 _Fuck it!_ Shorter aimed the gun at the door. "Yut-Lung, get behind one of the desks—"

"No."

"Yes."

"No. If I try to—they might spare—" Yut-Lung tried.

It was a vain hope. Cain cast Yut-Lung a look of _you poor child._

But Yut-Lung wasn't stupid. He had to know it wouldn't work. And still he was going to try, to save— _stop! I'm not letting you hurt yourself for us again!_

"Yut-Lung," called a voice from outside the door. "I suggest you open the door. Why don't _you_ tell him to do so?"

 _Me?_ Shorter stiffened. Cain glanced at him.

"Shut up!" snapped a new voice.

Yut-Lung froze. Shorter almost dropped the gun. Cain's eyes widened in horror.

 _Sing_.

Wang-Lung—that was who it had to be—captured Sing. _How? Why?_

Yut-Lung pressed his fists against his cheeks, as if screaming, but he made no sound.

"You killed Hua-Lung."

"No, actually I did," Shorter shouted.

"Why, Yut-Lung?" asked Wang-Lung, as if Shorter's words didn't even matter. "He was your advocate, you know. Your lover. I wanted to kill you like the gutless pig you are, but he stopped me, even years back, after your mother—"

Yut-Lung flinched. Of course Wang-Lung had said that out loud.

Shorter's fingers ached with how badly he wanted to pull the trigger right through the stupid door. But he couldn't risk killing Sing. " _You're_ the pig, eating everyone in sight. You let someone hurt your own brother like that? I'd never let _anyone_ treat my sister like that, or any of my friends either, and unfortunately for you, Yut-Lung is my friend. You don't deserve an ounce of respect. You're a monster."

"Oh, and he deserves respect?"

Yut-Lung gaped.

" _Yes_ ," said Shorter. "He's stronger than you or any of your other dead shithead brothers. He's above talking to you, but I'm not. You're going to die for what you've done to him. And if you so much as scratch Sing, I will make it hurt. I'm already going to kill you, you maggot. All you do is trample on people you don't see as necessary—"

"Open the door and we can—"

"You'll kill them," said Yut-Lung, his brow furrowing as if he was thinking of a plan. "No matter what."

"Open the door."

"Open the door," came Sing's voice, trembling. "Please."

 _Sing?_ If he was asking—what had they done—

Yut-Lung lunged forward, yanking open the door. _Wait!_ Shorter and Cain both swore, aiming their weapons. A gun flew towards Yut-Lung's head, but before it could aim, it twisted. A gunshot went off. Blood spurted, but from Wang-Lung's throat.

 _What?_

Sing disentangled his strings, rubbing his wrists. "Jesus, he was stupid." He'd used his string to twist the gun around and aim it at Wang-Lung.

"A trap?" eked out Shorter.

"Man, you had me going there, kid," Cain managed.

"Pretend hostage," Sing said. "Thanks for the idea, Shorter and Yut-Lung. I heard about you guys trying it from Eiji."

Yut-Lung nodded.

 _You suspected, didn't you?_ That Sing wouldn't have willingly become a hostage. Shorter rolled his eyes to keep from vomiting.

"Glad you're safe," was all Sing said to Yut-Lung. Yut-Lung swallowed.

"Well," said another voice. "Seeing as there's now only one Lee left, I no longer have a conflict."

"Who the fuck are you?" demanded Shorter as a massive man with a short brown ponytail came into view.

"My family's new bodyguard," Yut-Lung said. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

"Ash went to get Golzine," said the man. "I'll get you outside. I think you'll also find a majority of the guards have been taken out."

 _Shit_. Shorter felt impressed.

"Sing," said Yut-Lung.

"On it," said Sing. Sing paused to grab Wang-Lung's weapon first. He waved to Cain. "Let's go." They turned towards the stairs, running back to Ash.

"You?" asked the bodyguard.

"I'm staying with him," said Shorter, gesturing towards Yut-Lung. That hadn't initially been the plan. He was to take him to Eiji and then return, but right now Yut-Lung looked like he was barely holding it together. No matter how wonderful Eiji was, Shorter didn't want Yut-Lung to slip back into his suffocating secrets. _It's okay. I'll stay with you._

* * *

Golzine was with three guards who all went down with a single shot to each's brains. Ash held up the key as if to taunt the man about his latest betrayal.

Golzine stayed sitting at a desk, a scowl buried in his heavy face. Ash spotted the vials nearby. Banana Fish. Unending nightmares, the drug version of this man.

"Arthur ditched you too? A rat doesn't want to go down with a sinking ship," said Ash.

"You'll enjoy this," said Golzine. "Won't you? Because you like killing. You always have."

 _You're fighting me the only way you know how._ Ash held up Banana Fish. "I thought about using this."

Golzine's eyes narrowed. "And who would I kill for you?"

Ash grabbed a lighter from his pocket and tossed the vials into the fireplace. He set them to burn. He remembered reading about how in some places, the dead were burned, because that released their spirits. He thought of Griffin in a public grave.

 _I hope this sets you free._

"What you're afraid of," said Golzine. "Is that I chose you for your weakness as much as for your strength. That you were trainable, that you were hopeless, that you knew there was no going back. A leader who knows the unforgiveableness of taking a life is far more terrifying than one who justifies himself. You'd never forgive yourself. It was obvious even at eleven or twelve. That's why Blanca agreed to train you."

 _Eiji—Eiji's forgiven me. I don't deserve it, but—he has_. Ash believed Eiji. _You used it as a weapon and a leash. My weakness._

 _Eiji doesn't see it that way._

 _Eiji—I can't do this to you._

 _I can't die. I won't._

"You know," said Golzine. "You're smart. You know how hopeless it is. Even if I die here, there will be someone else. You and Yut-Lung, and Shorter and Sing and Cain: there are millions and millions of you in the world, and millions of mes. And your friends are murderers just like you, but you make excuses for them—"

Ash almost laughed. "You run by fear, they run by respect. They respect people who respect others." He shook. "It will happen again. But at the very least, for whoever takes your place, I won't know them."

 _Eiji, I want to go to Japan with you. I'll go to Japan, Cape Cod, California, anywhere in between. I'll stay here._

 _I refuse to be a slave again._

And in that moment, as he aimed the gun, he saw a glint and knew. A syringe.

 _Fuck._

* * *

Sing paused outside the door. Cain cocked his gun, peering around.

"Boss!" shouted a group of Cain's guys.

"Looking good," Cain said, giving them a thumbs-up. Sing pressed his ear against the wood paneling. Ash and Golzine were bantering back and forth. Like usual. Instead of killing him.

 _You want to kill him, and you don't want to be a murderer._

His hero, afraid. His hero, ashamed. Sing thought of the shame pinching Yut-Lung's face when Wang-Lung had said—had said—

"Cain," said Sing. _Ash, you don't have to do everything alone._

Cain nodded.

 _You do have a weakness. And because of that—I can be strong. And I can be weak, and that means I'm okay._

He heard a crash.

Sing flung the door open, his strings already shooting across the room. Golzine had a syringe inserted into his own arm, the top sliding down, a vacant look haunting his eyes as he rose. A guttural scream ripped from the man's throat as he lunged for Ash. Too stunned to move, Ash barely—

Sing's strings caught him. Golzine stumbled.

Cain's bullet flew into the man's skull.

* * *

Eiji was preparing an entire lecture that he was going to give to Ash completely guilt free after this was over to keep himself from biting his nails off. Alex had given him a gun in case he needed it. The popping of gunfire across the street struck his ears. He wanted to drown out the sound, or else jump into the fray.

 _I can't stand this!_

Footsteps sounded. Eiji grabbed the gun, jumping out from behind the tree.

"Whoa!" Shorter held up his hands. Behind him was—

"Yut-Lung!" Eiji cried out, dashing towards them. "You're okay!"

The boy was pale, drowning in Shorter's oversized jacket and shaking like he was cold. He glanced over his shoulder, back at the house. "Ash—"

Fear gripped Eiji. "Is he—"

"Sing and Cain will make sure he's okay," Shorter said. "They're more than capable."

"I don't want anyone dying for me again," croaked out Yut-Lung. "My mother—she probably could have fought and escaped—if I hadn't—" He covered his mouth.

Eiji didn't know what he was talking about, but he had an idea. He gripped Yut-Lung's shoulder, wordless. _See, Ash? I am useless._

"Thank you," managed Yut-Lung. "For coming."

Eiji nodded.

"I'm sorry I lied to you all," Yut-Lung blurted out, wringing his hands. "I—"

"Calm down," Shorter ordered again. "You can do this later, Yut-Lung. You have to keep it together right now."

Yut-Lung nodded. He tried to breathe. Eiji spotted blood on his shirt, gluing strands of his hair together. He swallowed. "It's going to be okay." _I am so bad at this. Ash, you're an idiot. You were wrong. Again._

"They're dead," Yut-Lung said. "All of my brothers."

Eiji nodded.

"I thought it'd feel different," whispered Yut-Lung.

"I'm sorry," Eiji said. He wondered if Yut-Lung had killed them, or someone else, and if it mattered. _You, like Ash, had so little choice, didn't you?_

 _I want you both to have that choice, now._

"Not your fault," Yut-Lung muttered, as if the words sounded sour. Eiji almost smiled. _You're still yourself_.

Eiji leaned in, remembering the day in Yut-Lung's bedroom. He hugged the other boy, who stiffened for a second, and then rested against him. His chest shook as if he was trying to breathe, trying to stay calm. "I'm still sorry," Eiji said. "You shouldn't have to go through this." _But since you do… since you do, Shorter's here, and I am too_.

 _You won't be alone._

Yut-Lung covered his eyes. Shorter studied the shoes Yut-Lung had bought him. "I thought you'd leave me there."

"No," Eiji said. "I saw... I mean, a few days ago, what you said was right. In a lot of ways." And he felt grateful to Yut-Lung. "I wouldn't leave you there." It'd be like leaving Ash there. And he was tired of giving up, of not finishing anything. _Ash is worth it. You are worth it. Maybe I can be, too._

"Not about everything," Yut-Lung said. He pulled back, and that was when Eiji noticed the bruise on his cheek, the smear of blood on his neck along with another, circular bruise that made Eiji feel cold from his fingers to his stomach. "You do love him. You don't hate him."

"I don't hate you either," Eiji said. "I can't. I called you a friend, and I meant it." _Can we be friends? For real?_

Yut-Lung's eyes misted.

"Eiji," said Shorter. "He'll make it. He's strong."

"I know," said Eiji. _Why are they comforting me? I was supposed to comfort them._ "I just… feel useless."

"I know," said Yut-Lung, studying him. "But you're not. You had a better life than Ash or I did, a happier upbringing—so if we have to use what we were born into, so do you. Am I making sense?"

"Yes," said Shorter. Eiji nodded.

" _Eiji!"_

He whirled around. Yut-Lung and Shorter scrambled to their feet behind him.

Sing raced towards them. In the distance Eiji heard wails splitting the night. _Sirens_?

"It's done," said Sing. "We have to get out of here, _now_."

But Eiji looked past him. The house was still lit up, but the windows were cracked and shattered. Inside people were probably dead. And there was Alex, rushing towards them, yelling about the cops. And Kong and Bones, and some of Sing's gang. Ash.

Limping, his arm slung around Cain.

But _Ash_.


	12. You Will Be Found

_When you don't feel strong enough to stand_

 _You can reach, reach out your hand_

 _And oh, someone will come running_

 _And I know they'll take you home_

 _~"You Will Be Found," Dear Evan Hansen_

* * *

Yut-Lung woke early, when mauve dawn still kept its blankets over them all. He was back in that room at the condo Ash had bought with Dino's money. His body ached. He was still wearing Shorter's jacket. He barely remembered what had happened after they ran from the cops. Everyone was cheering and laughing, Cain and Sing exchanging high-fives, and all he had wanted to do was sleep.

 _Did I fall asleep somewhere? Then how did I get here?_ Not to mention falling asleep in a room where he wasn't alone, with the door closed and locked, was unheard of for him unless he was drunk.

He pushed himself out of bed. The floorboards felt cold under his feet. He slipped into the bathroom, finally taking a shower. He turned the water up as hot as he could stand it, and hotter still. The water stung his skin like needles, and but the good news was he couldn't tell what was the water and what was his tears.

 _I want to be clean_.

 _Mother, I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

He turned the shower off and sat there on the edge of the tub, steam collecting around him, trying to breathe. His throat felt tight.

A knock on the door.

Shit, he'd been in here too long. Yut-Lung jumped to his feet. "One second." He quickly shoved on the clothes he'd left behind, and Shorter's jacket because it would be cold without the steam. He opened the door to find Eiji there, in his pajamas. "Sorry, I didn't mean to take so long—"

"Oh no," Eiji interrupted. "I was just—I wanted to make sure you were okay." He ran his hand through his hair, tousled from sleep.

The sound of snoring emerged from Shorter's room. Yut-Lung smirked. Eiji chuckled.

"Is Ash okay?" Yut-Lung asked.

"He's still sleeping," said Eiji.

"He's not great when he wakes up, I know."

"So they say, but I've never been scared." Eiji cocked his head. "Want coffee? Or tea?"

"Tea," Yut-Lung agreed, following him into the kitchen. He sat at the table, lowering his head. His hair, still wet, dripped around him. "I'm sorry about everything, you know."

Eiji swallowed as he set the kettle on and pulled out a chair across from Yut-Lung. "I meant what I said last night. I don't know what kind of choice you had. The choices you and Ash had: they were both—not much of one."

Yut-Lung closed his eyes. "I'm jealous of you." He hated himself for saying those words out loud. They burned, and he deserved it. "You had all of it. A life you could live, without ugliness." He peered at Eiji. "I didn't understand. I still don't. Why would you turn to the ugliness? Why would you choose that? I told myself you couldn't really face Ash because then you'd see how ugly it is, these hells we were in, and you—still went in." He gripped the table. "Why?"

For once, he was genuinely asking. He wanted to know. And this was terrifying. He shivered. He might as well be naked now, a vulnerable child looking up for someone to save him again, and this time maybe—maybe there would be an answer, or at least a hand that wasn't trying to hurt him.

"I don't know," Eiji admitted. He blew out his breath. "Maybe—because I see that it's ugly, it's hell, I see that there are beautiful things, too? They stand out more. Like Ash's bleeding heart."

 _Someone taught you that English phrase. Y_ ut-Lung studied the table, the stains in the wood. "Do you think someone like me has anything beautiful in him? Do you think someone like me can live? Deserves to?" _Am I too broken?_

"I don't give a damn about deserve," said Eiji.

"Stop swearing; Ash will blame me."

"I swear. Just in Japanese, in my head, so none of you realize it."

"Ash will be so disappointed."

Eiji snorted. He got up as the tea kettle whistled. The light from the windows turned into a soft gold. "I'm not a symbol. I'm a person."

Yut-Lung swallowed.

"But for what you asked: I'm talking to you right now, so yes."

"I don't know what's going to happen," Yut-Lung whispered. "I don't want to be—the Lee leader. I do, and I don't. I'm a fratricidal bastard, and—"

"Whatever you decide to do," Eiji said. "I think you can—not be like them. Just because you share blood doesn't mean you have to do what they would have done. I think you're free to choose."

 _Free_.

He'd never been free. He'd been born chained by the alleles in his DNA, chained by his brothers as their pet, chained by the system his father, who at the very least was kind to him, had created. The Lee family expectations weighed down on him. The rules, the roads. He looked out towards the windows, watching the sun rise, the sky opening up day above the city. A lump grew in his throat.

Yut-Lung accepted the cup of tea, wrapping his palms around it. "You and Ash belong together."

Eiji flushed.

"I meant that as a good thing," Yut-Lung said.

"I know."

 _If you and I can sit and talk together—despite the hell I tried and tried to drag you into—if you can comfort me, if you can see me as—a friend—then—_

 _Anything's possible, isn't it?_

* * *

Shorter's phone rang, jarring him awake. _Goddamn you, Sing_. "What?"

"Will you wake up already?" Sing snapped.

"What for, so you can yell at me?" He rubbed his eyes, sitting up.

"I want to talk to you about stuff."

 _"Stuff."_

" _Stuff_ ," Sing confirmed. "Meet me downstairs." He hung up.

 _You really shouldn't be ordering around your elders, brat._ Shorter hauled himself up, stumbling as he made his way out of the apartment and down the stairs. Sing was waiting in the lobby, clearly irritating the doormen.

"Can I come up?" said Sing cheerfully.

"You could have asked me to buzz you in."

"I could have," Sing agreed mischievously.

Shorter pressed the buttons to close the elevator door. The box began to rise.

"How's he doing?" Sing asked, voice hesitant.

"I haven't seen him yet this morning. He was fine last night, though. Didn't wake up." They'd all returned to Ash's place afterwards. There wasn't really any joy, but they drank to the dead. Yut-Lung had turned down the alcohol, and then fallen asleep. He must've been exhausted. Shorter carried him to his room.

"Talked to Nadia?" Sing questioned.

"She texted me a long rant that I haven't read yet."

"You dropped enough hints that you knew she would call the cops," said Sing, lips curving. "I know you did."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"Repeat it and I'll deck you." He still didn't quite know why he had done it.

 _I guess I didn't want to lose anyone else_.

Not exactly. He'd never wanted to fight this life. His parents were more than okay with the Lees, and while Nadia was devastated when he got himself sent to juvie at seventeen, that was where he met Ash. He didn't really regret it. But seeing how Ash fought—how he was always looking to break free, no matter the cost—it ignited something in Shorter. He still wasn't quite certain what it was. "Say a word and I'll cut you."

"Oh, I'm terrified," Sing said sarcastically.

Shorter glared at him. For real, he couldn't be seen as collaborating with the cops. He didn't trust them. He did trust Nadia and because of her, Charlie, which was why he wanted help. The cops were going to come anyways, so he might as well make sure it was someone who liked them.

"I mean, it worked," said Sing, folding his arms behind his head. "And I won't say anything, which you already know. Seen Ash?"

"I'm not waking a sleeping cat."

"Fair enough." Sing paused outside the apartment. "Shorter…"

 _You don't want Yut-Lung to overhear whatever you want to say_. Shorter paused.

"Thanks," said Sing. "For getting him out of there. I don't know what was true and what wasn't from what his brother said yesterday and I don't want to, but despite his act he's always been so obviously hurting. Before he fell asleep last night, he smiled. I don't think I've ever seen him smile in a way that wasn't, like, promising a needle to your throat afterwards." He swallowed. "He's like a big brother. An annoying one, like Lao, but I don't want to see him bleeding constantly. Every second I've seen him, he's been bleeding."

Not literally. But it was true. Shorter nodded. "I don't abandon friends. If you do, that's the quickest way to get people to turn on you."

Sing nodded.

"What?" Shorter asked.

Sing peered at him. " _You_ have a crush on him now, too."

"You're the most annoying brat I've ever met."

"No, you just suck at hiding your emotions, which is probably why you wear sunglasses even inside."

"Well, so what?" Shorter asked. He'd never really thought about a guy in that way before. But Yut-Lung...

He'd known since Yut-Lung gave him the Banana Fish that night, and he heard the door close, and he knew that he had to get up, chase after him, and then do whatever it took to get him back. Not because he pitied Yut-Lung or wanted to save him from the horrors he really hadn't even begun to imagine, but because he wanted him by his side, because he was a boy terrified but braver than Shorter had ever been, trapped and still fighting, and not just fighting to die, but to change. And changing. The moment Yut-Lung had apologized to Max, the moment he opened that door, the moment he looked at Shorter last night and Shorter knew he'd been given Yut-Lung's trust and that he would never break it.

"He gives you hope," said Sing. "Me, too. Both of you give me hope."

Shorter nodded. _You know, Yut-Lung, you're more of a leader than anyone in your family ever has been._ He was someone Shorter wanted to stay with, like he'd wanted to be Ash's friend, because they gave him light. _Could you really feel that way about me, Yut-Lung? Me, a "stray Chinese cat," like Arthur said?_

His heartbeat quickened. He shook his head. It didn't matter. Yut-Lung had been through too much recently. Though, he supposed the same could be said about Ash and Eiji.

 _There's never a perfect time, is there?_

 _But if there is, maybe I can wait for one._

"By the way."

"What?"

"I lied about dropping out of school. I actually have straight As."

Shorter contemplating kicking him. "For real?"

"Mm-hm." Sing nodded, a smile repressed. His tone sounded almost as if he was a kid asking his brother or parent to praise him.

"Get straight As next semester and I'll give you twenty bucks." Was that what parents did? Shorter really didn't know. Nadia used to give him a dollar when he did well. But that ended quickly. He remembered all his friends clambering around him as he climbed higher and higher in the gang ranks, and Nadia crying at night, resigned.

"I can get twenty bucks anytime I want."

"Never mind; I'm calling Charlie."

Sing kicked him. Shorter grabbed him in a headlock.

The door flung open. Eiji let out a laugh when he saw them. "Lurking out here for some reason?"

"Yeah, this one's irritating me," said Shorter, ducking inside. He saw Yut-Lung emerging from his room, wearing Shorter's jacket again. His gaze looked almost shy, as if he still wasn't sure he belonged.

 _You do_. Shorter surprised himself by how fiercely that thought came up. _And I'll show you._

* * *

Ash rolled over. Light crept in, and he was annoyed. He wanted to sleep longer, rest. But it was incessant, prying open his consciousness. He tilted his head back, opening his eyes, studying the ceiling. He turned and saw Eiji, sitting on his bed by the window and reading something on his phone. "What does the news say?"

Eiji blinked. "You're awake!"

"Unfortunately." Ash buried his face into his pillow.

" _Fortunately_ ," Eiji sang.

"It's too early for you to be this chipper."

"Ash, it's two in the afternoon."

"What?" Ash sat up. "Fuck."

"Have somewhere to be?" Eiji asked, arching his brows.

Not exactly. No. He just always felt like he should be doing something.

 _Dino is gone._

 _The Lees are gone except for the one who is my friend._

 _My friend._

 _I forgive him._ Ash studied his hands. He glanced at Eiji. "You don't hate me, do you?"

Eiji's jaw dropped. "Of course not!"

"I didn't get to kill Golzine. I wish I had." And if he had, he'd hate himself more.

Eiji nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Eiji," said Ash. "I never wanted you to see me like that—to see how much I hate myself, because if you did, you'd hate me, and I wanted you to, because I don't want to lie to you, and I don't want you to, because I need you and I'm selfish and—"

"Ash—"

"The things I've done—"

"And the things that were done to you," said Eiji. "It's not a complete story without either of them. It's just facts, things that happened, but you're more than that. Facts don't tell you much about people. And, Ash—I know. I know that you're a murderer. And I am still here. And if you need me to, I'll forgive you for it, even if no one else will." He reached out. His hands clasped Ash's, warm, and Ash couldn't curl his fingers.

 _I forgave Yut-Lung._

 _If—if I could do that—_

"I think you're an angel," Ash said to him, a helpless laugh emerging from his lips.

"Not hardly," said Eiji. "You're the strong one."

"Not in the same way as you."

Eiji's eyes widened. He almost smiled. "Then let me make my own choices. And I want to stay with you."

 _Then I want to honor that_. He didn't know where they could go, only that with Dino dead, they might have a chance. Or not. Maybe wherever they went or stayed, it would follow them. But he'd have to, to try. He nodded.

 _If no one else was here but you, I think I'd be okay._

Eiji leaned in, wrapping his arms around Ash and resting his forehead on Ash's shoulder. As if Ash comforted him. Like the night Ash had leaned his head on Eiji's lap, just wanting to imagine, for a moment, that they would be okay.

 _Forever_.

 _I can—be good. To you. For you._

Ash rested his head on Eiji's shoulder too. _We're okay. You're okay. I'm okay._

"Don't go away," Eiji whispered.

"I won't," he managed. "I promise." He pulled back, their eyes locking. Eiji's widened slightly. They sparkled.

"This is so new for me," Ash said. "It'll be hard to learn." _But I think... I think if I took this risk with you, you wouldn't let me fall._

"I'll be here." Eiji clasped his hand.

Ash's hand moved on its own, up the back of Eiji's neck. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, like it did in the moments he was running. Or fighting for his life. But this time there was no danger. No, there was. But he knew it was only imaginary. A pumpkin monster in a reflection.

Eiji's brow furrowed. And then it relaxed. He realized. He leaned in, forehead resting against Ash's. His eyes closed. His breath was warm against Ash's face. His eyes closed, relaxed, just here with Ash and Ash with him. Their chests rose and fell in sync. And the tension in his shoulders, his ribs, it fell away. His breaths shook, inhaling deeper than before.

Safe. This was safety. As safe as they would ever get.

Free. As free as he could be. And he wasn't alone. "Eiji?"

Eiji opened his eyes. His lashes brushed Ash's skin. Ash hesitated. And then he lowered his lips down, brushing his lips against Eiji's. Eiji's lips were soft, his mouth sweet, and all Ash could hear were their breaths syncing again. _I want this_. Eiji's hand pressed the back of Ash's head.

He'd never kissed like this before. Soft, testing before each turn of the head, someone holding him with gentleness, someone looking at him like they _knew_ him instead of the role he played.

Not just someone. Eiji.

Ash broke away. Eiji smiled, his cheeks flushed.

 _God, I love you._

A knock on the door. "Yo," called Shorter. "Max is here."

"Huh?" Ash pulled back. Shorter raised his eyebrows. Ash rolled his eyes, scrambling off the bed and out the door. He found Yut-Lung and Sing both sitting on one of the couches, arguing in Chinese. Max smiled when he saw him. Ash waved. "Hi, old man."

Max snorted. And Ibe stepped out behind him.

"Ibe-san!" shrieked Eiji, racing towards him.

"You seem to enjoy worrying me," Ibe teased. Ash blinked. _Would you approve? Or do you see me as someone corrupting Eiji, putting him in danger_? His shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry," Eiji managed. "I didn't mean to worry you—I was just—"

"I understand," said Ibe. "I brought you here to try and help you wake up, live again. Your eyes—they look alive again."

Eiji blinked. Ash's jaw dropped. Ibe smiled at him.

"Yut-Lung just gave me access to his family's records," said Max.

"What?" Ash turned. Shorter draped himself over the back of the couch where Yut-Lung sat, watching.

Yut-Lung shrugged. "Farewell, Lee family. I did say I'd destroy it." He acted like he didn't care again. An easy role to slip back into.

Ash shrugged. He'd have time.

"It'll help with my story on Golzine's prostitution ring," said Max. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Yut-Lung turned back to Sing, who scowled at whatever Yut-Lung was saying.

"Careful," warned Ash. "A snake shouldn't lose his fangs."

"Or a lynx his claws?"

"Oh great," complained Shorter. "Here we go again."

"You're too alike," said Sing. "You're just going to fight until we're all deaf."

Eiji was even laughing. Ash folded his arms.

He and Yut-Lung were alike, though. _But… if you can live, so can I._

* * *

Yut-Lung stared at the sheet of paper in front of him. He should be practicing calligraphy to relax. But everything kept playing through his mind, and he didn't know what to write.

His brothers were all gone. He probably deserved to be with them, but he didn't want to be. Twisting his hair around his palm, Yut-Lung bit down on the pen.

A knock. "Come in," he called, not at all surprised when Shorter came in. Still, his fingers gripped the pen tighter, and he couldn't quite look at him.

"You doing okay?" Shorter asked, leaning back against the door.

Yut-Lung lifted his shoulders. "I suppose."

"Should I get vodka or will you tell me the truth?"

Yut-Lung had to laugh. "Please don't." He rose from his desk chair and sat on the floor instead, leaning back against the bed. "I don't know what I'm going to do. Or be. Or anything, not anymore. I don't think I ever counted on surviving my brothers' dying and the Lee dynasty going down."

"So you don't want to lead it?" Shorter sat down across from him.

"I don't know." Yut-Lung pressed his palms over his eyes. "It'd be next to impossible after what Max is going to write."

"You really don't have to figure it all out right now," Shorter pointed out. "Just do what's in front of you."

"I don't even know what that is," Yut-Lung admitted. _I feel like such a child_. "I—don't want to fall back into acting like—I thought things would be different. If I had people who cared. If I could just make them care. I'm still the same, though." He could still feel his brother's hands on him, twisting his hair, pushing him down.

"That's okay, though," said Shorter. "I mean, I don't know what you're going through, but I know that I've been Ash's friend for years and you two are the same according to Wise Sage Sing."

Yut-Lung snorted. _I thought I could make someone love me._

 _I can't._

 _But you like me enough to stay_.

"You realize that—what I saw yesterday—just like when I learned Ash's past on Cape Cod—it doesn't change a thing about what I think of you, okay?"

Yut-Lung blinked.

"As in, I don't think less of you because of that," Shorter said, removing his sunglasses. "It does change a bit of what I think. But not of your character. Mostly it changes that I know I was wrong. I'm sorry I mocked you when we were sent to Golzine together."

Yut-Lung twisted his hands in his lap. He wasn't sure what to say. The truth, he supposed. "It was the first time anyone had ever said that they were using me and that it was wrong. It was true, and I was glad someone said it. It didn't matter to me that you were mocking me for it. You were like a trapped cat then. Trapped animals lash out."

"And you've been a cornered snake all your life."

Yut-Lung eyed Shorter. "I suppose."

"If you could go anywhere," said Shorter, popping a piece of gum into his mouth and offering Yut-Lung a stick. He took it. "Where would you go? Who would you be?"

Yut-Lung placed the gum in his mouth. Mint. "I'd be—I don't know." He tilted his head back. "I don't want to be selfish."

"I think you're allowed to look after yourself a little."

His face burned.

"What?" asked Shorter.

"It doesn't matter."

"Now I'm curious."

Yut-Lung threw the wrapper at him. "I don't know. Not anymore. I used to think I'd be—someone like you." _Fuck, did I just say that?_

"Me?" Shorter laughed, but he twisted his hands. "Man, Nadia's going to be pissed when she hears I have a Lee looking up to me despite it all."

Yut-Lung's heart pounded. "No, I mean, you stood for something. You'd never betray your friends. You had people to cling to. I thought that was admirable, and I wanted that. Maybe if I was more like you, people would like me."

"Oh." Shorter fell silent. He tugged his sunglasses off his face. "Thank you." His voice was quiet.

 _Is that really so hard to believe?_

"But you know that, despite it all, me and Sing and Ash and Eiji all like you as you are, right? Sing even helped us get your location by using a plan he called 'what would Yut-Lung do.'"

"Now I'm scared," said Yut-Lung. "Please tell me you didn't use the Banana Fish."

Shorter rolled his eyes. "No. We schemed. It's not a bad thing, being able to think, understanding people. All that to say, we all like you. Genuinely. I admire you."

"What?"

"You're brave," said Shorter. "Braver than me. Fuck. You and Ash both are people who have been through hell, and still fight, and I've been through far less, and I haven't ever tried to change any part of my life before now because—I've been—" He swallowed.

 _Afraid_. Yut-Lung knew. "I'm not brave." The confession came out broken.

"Yes," said Shorter. "To me, you are."

A lump grew in his throat. The idea that there was something about him worth liking even without his family name... "Do you ever wonder what your parents would think of you?" Yut-Lung asked. "I think they'd like who you became, even if you're using it in ways they wouldn't approve of. My mother—" He stopped. "Sorry."

"All the time," Shorter admitted. He met Yut-Lung's eyes, looking as if something had been peeled back. "What were you gonna say?"

"I hope she wouldn't hate me," Yut-Lung whispered. "And I don't know my father. I never really knew him, but he was nice enough to me even if he was a creep in other ways, and he did give me a Lee name, so maybe he'd be okay with me."

"I don't think it matters," said Shorter. "But for the record, I think your mother would love you. If she loved you then, she'd love you now. That's not conditional."

Yut-Lung nodded. "Sorry."

"What for?"

"I don't know."

"Hey," Shorter said. "Like I said before. You can take your time. I'll still be here."

Yut-Lung's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened. His eyes stung. _You really—care? You like me_. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Also," said Shorter, tugging at a loose tread in his ripped jeans. "Sing told me you have a crush on me."

Now Yut-Lung's face felt scalded from the inside. _That little—_ "Why would he say that?"

"I don't know. I'm asking you. Being direct."

 _Too bad for you expecting me to be direct about that is a little too much right now_. "Sing is—that's not exactly—I—"

"Well," said Shorter. "If you did, I was going to say that would make me—feel pretty good."

 _What?_

"I'd wait for you. Until you're ready. But I don't want you to feel pressured, and this is probably the wrong time, and I really, really suck at this; what am I doing—"

Yut-Lung's jaw dropped. _You like me like that?_

"—I mean, I know that with everything, you probably don't want—"

"You actually like me?" Yut-Lung managed.

 _You're afraid. Your cool, calm, collected shield—you willingly put it down. For me._

A gift. Priceless.

Shorter stopped. "That's what I just said?"

 _And you'd wait for me? You don't want anything? You just want me?_

He'd known, of course, that this was the kind of person Shorter was, that this was the kind of thing Shorter would do, but he never dreamed it could be a reality no matter how desperate he grabbed for it. And now... he was just offering it to him. Trusting him, with this.

Yut-Lung felt light. _Is this what it's like to be happy_?

Shorter cussed. "I'm so bad at this. I've never liked a guy before. That makes you special."

"You aren't bad at this," said Yut-Lung. _You care. And you didn't even need to tell me that for me to know it._ But this _—_ he hadn't thought Shorter would care about him like this. "You—don't think I'm disgusting." _ _  
__

"Of course not," Shorter said. "I think you're—beautiful. And you give me hope. Watching you change, realizing I was wrong and you're still  
—here—and I'm still—"

 _Beautiful_.

He knew Shorter wasn't talking about how he looked like his mother, or anything of the sort. Despite everything.

 _You really forgave me like that._

You _are beautiful._ "I feel the same about you," Yut-Lung whispered.

Shorter nodded. His eyes were wet, and he wasn't covering them.

Yut-Lung swallowed. "I do like you. I always have. I think I'm worse at this than you, though, because I had no idea how to even hint at it."

Shorter actually laughed, but it was a kind laugh. Yut-Lung smiled.

"I'm glad," said Shorter. "But for the record, this isn't intended to be any kind of pressure. I want you to think about what you want. You don't really seem like you've been able to act on that before. Hence the elaborate schemes."

 _My saying I liked you made you_ glad _. Instead of being a burden. Instead of being a weapon._

You _like me. You_ like _me. You like_ me _._

 _I like you._

 _I want to live free, like you, and I might be able to, and I'm still scared, but you're trusting me to make a decision and I trust you for it._

"You can kiss me, if you want." Yut-Lung swallowed. His heart pounded. "I've wanted you to kiss me for... awhile now. I just never thought it would happen, and I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable, and maybe I'm making you uncomfortable now but I hope not but I don't know how to ask this kind of thing." He cut himself off.

Shorter laughed. "You're not making me uncomfortable."

"Are you sure?" Yut-Lung tugged at his hair. "I mean, only if you want to. You get a say too. Of course."

"I want to."

Yut-Lung's heart skipped a beat. And then Shorter was in front of Yut-Lung, and the moonlight streaming into the window was sparkling against the piercing in his eyebrow. Yut-Lung usually closed his eyes when people kissed him. This time, he kept his eyes open. Shorter's hand entwined with his. His lips brushed his. Just a simple kiss, for now.

Yut-Lung let out his breath. He leaned forward, holding onto Shorter. _I don't feel alone. Even before you kissed me._

 _You won't hurt me.  
_

He knew it, and it spread through him like a balm, soothing. They both leaned in. This time Yut-Lung tilted his head, allowing it to deepen.

A knock on the door. "I'm about to leave and I need to give you some info," called Sing.

"Coming!" Shorter hauled himself up. He pulled Yut-Lung up behind him and opened the door.

Sing's brow wrinkled. "What, were you kissing in there?"

"Sing, you're grounded," said Shorter as Yut-Lung's jaw dropped.

"Oh. My. God," said Sing. "You _were!_ I fucking knew it!"

"Knew what?" called Ash's voice.

Sing folded his arms.

Eiji appeared behind Ash and grinned. "I approve." His eyes met Yut-Lung's.

"What?" asked Ash.

"I kissed Yut-Lung," said Shorter.

Ash's jaw dropped. Yut-Lung realized one of his hands was clasped with Shorter's. He didn't want to move it. _You're all like friends to me._

Ash shrugged. "Hurt him, and I'll kill you."

"Fair," Yut-Lung agreed. _You_ are _friends._

"You will not kill him. I won't let you," Eiji said.

"I will too."

"Will not."

"You're impossible."

"Why are we debating killing my boyfriend?" demanded Shorter.

"Because they were just kissing too?" Sing suggested.

"Are they always like this?" Cain's voice hollered.

Yut-Lung turned. "Pretty much," he confirmed.

"I'm going home to Jessica," said Max. Ibe smiled.

" _I_ knew it," Ash mumbled.

This. This room.

It felt like what he had never even had a chance to dream of. Laughing, with brothers. Someone choosing to be with him. His mother wasn't there, but a sliver of moon glowed out the window, and in that moment, he heard her last cry again. _Yut-Lung!_

 _Run,_ she would have said. He knew it, but they grabbed her, and they grabbed him. He'd been running ever since, though, even trapped inside.

No, he hadn't been running. He'd been hiding.

" _One. Two. Three. Four. Five."_

" _I wonder where Yut-Lung could be," she said, meandering past his hiding place._

 _And he burst out giggling, running towards her, and she lifted him up in the air, her long dark hair fanning around her. "Found you!"_

A laugh emerged from Ash's throat, and Sing winked at Yut-Lung. Shorter squeezed his hand.

 _I found you._


	13. Epilogue 1: Stranger Things

_We'd used to run around this ghost town_

 _Always thinking out loud_

 _Are we gonna get out_

 _I remember_

 _We dream of places that we could go_

 _Castles with the strange glow_

 _People that we don't know_

 _I remember_

 _~"Stranger Things," Kygo_

* * *

His brother's hand closed around his throat. The darkness closed in. Yut-Lung gagged. _How—_

His brother was dead, was supposed to be dead, but he was here, choking him. His brain struggled to make sense of it. He couldn't be here. He was gone. But he was here. Yut-Lung couldn't even move to fight him off—which one was it? Hua-Lung? Wang-Lung? He didn't—he couldn't even see.

Yut-Lung jerked up, eyes snapping open. The hands around his throat collapsed. Blankets. They fell away. The streetlights shone through the windows in his bedroom. His room was empty, the harsh sound of his breath inhaling and exhaling filling the air. Outside, he heard a horn down below, on the street. Christmas lights were strung around the city, gold and jade, ruby and sapphire, flying reindeer and jolly men in red.

Cold sweat dampened his face. Yut-Lung doubled over. His teeth chattered. _He's not here. They're dead. They really are. It's okay._

He checked his phone. Three in the morning. Yut-Lung hauled himself out of bed, pattering out into the condo Ash had bought. Ash and Eiji's door was closed, as was Shorter's. Alex slept on the couch, snoring. Yut-Lung slipped into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. His hair fell loose around his shoulders. He shivered and folded his arms around his midsection.

It felt real, that hand. Yut-Lung didn't believe in ghosts, but his skin crawled nonetheless. What they had done to him, to his mother. He felt it around his hair, he felt it pushing him down. Infected again, with some disease he couldn't even see or make sense of, a disease he was starting to lose hope there was a cure for when every time he thought he'd moved past it, a new nightmare arose.

 _They're always with me. I'm still filthy._

He set the water down and went into the bathroom. He didn't want to go back to his room.

 _They're dead._

 _They can't hurt me anymore_.

Why did it still feel like their memories were reaching for him, bruising and abusing him, even from beyond the grave?

He just wanted to be healed.

Yut-Lung peered into the mirror. He looked like his mother. He could recognize her eyes, her jaw, her porcelain skin. But today he also saw his father's nose, the same nose Wang-Lung and Hua-Lung shared.

 _Monster._

Yut-Lung clutched the edges of the sink. Now his lungs were contracting. His throat ached from repressing a scream.

He had a shower right here. He could clean himself. But what was the point, when he still felt a phantom hand?

He had ink in his room. He could cover up this stupid tattoo they made him get.

He had a bed he could crawl into, one that had never been invaded by an unwelcome presence.

He had a phone, and he could text Sing, who told him to text anytime.

But he couldn't move besides slumping down, trying to block the raging inside his head. _Incompetent. Failure_. The light blurred. His breaths came quick and sharp, like knife wounds instead of something keeping him alive.

 _I want to live, I want to live, why is this happening?_

 _I don't want to be in pain!_

A creak. The door opened.

"Oh, sorry," mumbled Shorter's voice. "I didn't reali—Yut-Lung?"

He craned his neck up. His knees were drawn against his chest.

"Jesus," said Shorter. "What happened? Did someone—" Shorter patted his sweatpants for his knife.

"Those don't have pockets," managed Yut-Lung. His boyfriend—the term was still so new, a month and a half later—towered over him. The hold on his throat lessened. He could breathe, one breath at a time.

Shorter rolled his eyes. He hesitated. "Are you okay?"

Yut-Lung stumbled to his feet. He nodded.

Shorter studied him. No sunglasses. Yut-Lung liked when he could see his eyes. But he didn't know what to say. Even though Shorter liked him, Yut-Lung still didn't know what that meant when it was three in the morning and he clearly looked like hell.

"You look scared," Shorter said slowly.

"I just had a nightmare," muttered Yut-Lung.

Shorter stiffened. "Your brothers?"

Yut-Lung swallowed. He nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." Shorter sighed. "Do you want to be alone?"

Yut-Lung bit his lip. His jaw trembled. He shook his head.

Shorter put his hand on his shoulder. "Want to come to my room?"

Yut-Lung nodded. He followed Shorter back to his room, smaller than anyone else's. His shoulders felt weighted with how much of a burden he was. He sat down on the comforter.

Shorter dropped down next to him. "Do you get these a lot?"

"No. Well."

Shorter eyed him.

"Once or so a week," Yut-Lung admitted. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"No," said Shorter. "An afterlife, maybe. I hope so. Not ghosts."

Yut-Lung sighed. "I don't, either. I just keep imagining they're here. And they'll hurt you and Ash and Eiji and everyone."

"And you."

"And me," Yut-Lung confirmed. He played with the ends of his hair.

"They won't," said Shorter. "I've always wanted to fight a zombie, so even if they come back, I'll fight them off. Okay?"

Yut-Lung snorted. "They'd eat you."

"They would not. You wouldn't let them."

Yut-Lung smiled. "No, I wouldn't." He peered out the window. A snowflake fluttered down outside. He wondered if it would ever hit the ground.

"They won't hurt you again."

"I thought I'd feel safer with them gone," he said. "And I should."

"Why?"

"I should—"

"I mean, if I were you, I think it'd be hard to feel safe again," said Shorter.

Yut-Lung narrowed his eyes. "I'm not—"

"That's not me saying you're weak," said Shorter, holding his hands up. "But, if you were. I wouldn't care."

Yut-Lung blew out his breath. He combed his fingers through his hair. _At least you're here._

 _I'm still afraid you'll go away._

Shorter had seen what Hua-Lung was doing to him and he still said he liked Yut-Lung. But he didn't understand why. Not with this tattoo on his neck and these ghosts in his head. And Yut-Lung feared he wouldn't be able to learn to adapt to this world, a world where Eiji and Shorter and Sing seemed to trust each other and the people around them. Even Ash could trust people, albeit only to a certain extent, and then Eiji all the way.

"You know," said Shorter, gripping his ankle. "You can wake me up. When you have these nightmares. You shouldn't have to suffer alone."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault. I've heard Ash and Eiji talking a few times. He gets them too. But you're used to doing everything on your own. Even more than he is. It takes awhile to change that habit, I imagine. But I'm just letting you know. You wouldn't be bothering me."

"I never planned on surviving," Yut-Lung said. "I wanted all the Lees gone, myself included. I am not much better than they are."

"You're sixteen; I think you're a lot better. They had years you didn't have."

Yut-Lung swallowed. "Hua-Lung was fifteen when he first—did that—to me the morning after they killed my mother like she was some kind of animal. I remember watching the sun rise and hating it. Part of me still hoped she'd come in and save me, even though I saw them kill her. But part of me didn't want her to see that, either." His throat clogged.

Shorter wrapped his arms around him. Yut-Lung closed his eyes.

"He had years to change," said Shorter. "He didn't."

"I—"

"You may not see it," said Shorter. "But I think you've changed a hell of a lot from the person I met in LA."

Yut-Lung tilted his head back, hair spilling onto the pillow. "I hope I don't let you down." _That's what I'm afraid of most. Letting you down._

"You _did_ let me down before, in LA," said Shorter. "And I've let _you_ down, and we're both still here, right?" He groaned. "I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm—"

"We're both still here," Yut-Lung repeated. He pulled back, studying Shorter. This was why he had liked Shorter, why he targeted him. His loyalty. He knew his loyalty ran deep to his sister, to Ash. And he envied it. And now he _had_ it.

 _Even if I fuck up._ Shorter knew how ugly he could be, and still chose him.

 _And you have my loyalty, too_.

"Speaking of LA, I've always wondered. The night we first met: did those guys knock you out or were you faking unconsciousness?"

Yut-Lung smirked. "A needle, on my instructions. I was semi-aware." He narrowed his eyes as another memory struck him. "Max thought I was a girl. And you thought I looked like Eiji."

"Sort of. I thought you were pretty," Shorter cut in. "Still do."When Shorter said it, he didn't have the gleam in his eyes like his brothers always did, like they were planning to polish and use him. Shorter said it like he just wanted to give him a compliment.

"I thought you were attractive, too. Not bald like I'd heard."

"So you'd dump me if I was bald?"

Yut-Lung's jaw fell open, before he realized Shorter was teasing him. He sighed. "Sometimes I worry I'm burdening you."

"You aren't," Shorter insisted.

Yut-Lung watched more snow fall. "Can I stay with you for the night?" he asked. "I mean—not—doing anything."

"'Course," said Shorter, rubbing his forehead as if in surprise.

Yut-Lung's heart pounded. He'd never spent the night here. They kissed, but never for very long. It wasn't that he'd ever felt Shorter would hurt him, but he didn't trust his own mind not to cross tangle his brother or a client with Shorter, and he would rather die than think of Shorter in that way. But when Shorter said he could be weak, he almost believed it.

He lay down next to Shorter, closing his eyes. It was warm, sleeping in the same bed as another person.

He drifted off as a soft sunrise broke through the sky.

* * *

Shorter rolled over. More snow fell outside. Yut-Lung was asleep next to him, breaths deep and even. His hair, loose, fell over the pillow like spilled ink. And then Shorter realized Yut-Lung's arm was strewn across him.

Well, he wasn't complaining. Shorter hesitated, and then wrapped an arm around him, too. Seeing Yut-Lung curled up on the bathroom floor the night before sent a jolt of fear through him.

Shorter used to have nightmares after his parents' deaths. He would dream about a car smashed, and that Nadia was next. He started avoiding sleeping. Gangs made that easy. He wondered what would have happened if he'd just talked to Nadia.

 _You can talk to me, Yut-Lung_. But it was hard. He was so much like Ash, and so different too. He kept everything vaulted inside, even when it was killing him.

His phone rang. Shorter groaned. Yut-Lung stirred. He blinked, realizing that their arms were around each other, and then he smiled.

"Morning," Shorter grumbled, reaching for his phone. Nadia. Speak of the devil.

"What does your sister want?"

"What, do you have a sixth sense or can you see through phones now?" Shorter asked.

"Sing would never text you at eight in the morning, Ash would never be awake this early, Eiji would wait for you to get up, and Alex would knock on the door." Yut-Lung sat up, hair sticking out with static. "What?"

Shorter gestured. "You look funny."

Yut-Lung's eyes widened. He hit Shorter with a pillow. Shorter flopped backwards. "She wants me to spend Christmas with her and Charlie. I'm sure I know what Charlie would get me. A class for reformation of delinquents."

"He would not."

"Okay, fine. He values his life too much to risk me killing him."

"Do you usually celebrate the holiday?" asked Yut-Lung, peering out the window at the snow fall. The sidewalks below were coated in a white powder—well, kind of. Most of it was already trampled into brown slush.

"Eh, kind of. It's not a huge thing." Shorter pushed his mohawk back. He touched up his roots a few days ago, or really Yut-Lung had done it for him. "If I go, you should come with me."

Yut-Lung rested his chin on his knee. "I still haven't met your sister, you know."

"Oh, right."

"What if she doesn't like me?" asked Yut-Lung bluntly.

Shorter's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Because I'm a Lee and I basically kidnapped you at one point?"

"She won't hold that against you. She is not that kind of person," said Shorter.

Yut-Lung swallowed. He looked uncertain. And again Shorter remembered that he had no concept of what a family who actually cared about each other would look like. Instead, his brothers killed his mother and abused him, using each other as tools instead of family.

Yut-Lung excused himself to shower. Shorter heard Alex's voice and Eiji's from the living area and stumbled out himself to make a cup of tea. Yut-Lung liked jasmine tea, so he'd—

"Sharing a room?" teased Alex.

Eiji cringed. Shorter rolled his eyes. Alex didn't get it, of course. Shorter ignored him. His phone rang again. This time Nadia was calling.

"You better get that," sang Alex. "Or she'll poison you, or more likely, deny food to all of us, and I want her—"

"Chang Dai's closed down, remember?" Shorter scowled. That was more or less his fault.

Eiji sighed.

An idea formed in Shorter's mind. He plopped down on a kitchen chair. "Hey, Eiji."

"Mm?" Eiji sipped a cup of coffee.

"Want to come to Christmas dinner at Nadia's?"

"I'm old socks," complained Alex.

"You, and Ash too," said Shorter. "Hey, we could even ask Max and Jessica, and Ibe as well. Nadia would probably like more company." And having more people Yut-Lung knew well around would help him relax more. Less pressure. He wouldn't have to talk to Charlie very much at all. The policeman definitely made him anxious, like any terrible murderer.

Eiji's eyes lit up. He was already nodding. "That'd be so fun. Did you know that in Japan Christmas is a lover's holiday?"

"It's what now?"

Eiji flushed. "You just usually spend Christmas Eve with a significant other and—"

"Cool," said Shorter.

"You aren't going home?" Alex asked.

Eiji shook his head. Stubborn.

When Yut-Lung emerged from the shower, Shorter followed him into his room. Yut-Lung was glaring at the sparse area.

"Guess what," said Shorter.

"I'm afraid," replied Yut-Lung.

"Shut up. No, Eiji and Ash and everyone will be coming to Nadia's for Christmas too. So you won't be the only one who—"

Yut-Lung's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really."

Yut-Lung wrapped his hair into its trademark ponytail, covering up the tattoo marking him as a Lee. "Thank you." His fingers pushed the ponytail to the side, tracing the tattoo. He frowned. "Part of me wants to cover it up, and part of me wants to keep it." He glanced at Shorter as if that admission would scare him.

"I think it looks good, no matter what," said Shorter. "It's yours. It's not your brothers', not anymore."

Yut-Lung smiled. He hopped onto his desk and tilted his head back. "Does this mean I have to buy you a Christmas gift?"

"It better be designer."

"Thrift store," Yut-Lung countered. His face softened. "Thank you for last night."

"Thank you," replied Shorter. _For letting me in._

Yut-Lung's eyes misted.

"Are you okay?" What had he done now?

"Kiss me," Yut-Lung requested.

He didn't have to ask twice. Yut-Lung was better than most of the women he'd kissed. And he completely trusted Shorter, and Shorter felt freer with him, because he'd seen Shorter broken, and still saved him. Shorter moved his lips down Yut-Lung's neck. "Okay?"

Yut-Lung sucked in his breath when he realized Shorter was on his tattoo. "Yeah," he managed.

"There," said Shorter. "Now it's covered up for awhile."

* * *

"Sure, that'd be fun," Ash agreed when Shorter suggested spending Christmas with Nadia. Eiji studied him as they waved and ducked out of the condo, heading to Max and Jessica's new apartment.

"You okay?" Eiji asked.

Ash nodded. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. The wind whipped through the streets, the clouds above heavy silver.

Eiji carried a travel mug of tea. "Did Griffin celebrate Christmas when you were a kid?"

Ash smirked. "Yeah. He dressed up as Santa one year. I was about four. He made me dress like an elf."

Eiji burst out laughing. The sound lifted Ash's spirits.

"We went over to Dad's and Jennifer's. Jennifer made a nice brunch, with cinnamon rolls." Ash's voice trailed off. Jennifer was dead now, of course. And Griffin, too. "My dad laughed. He seemed happy. 'Course, he'd been drinking. But that's my best memory of Christmas. The years after Griffin left… well, it was just another day." Not quite. It actually got worse and worse when Ash found himself with Dino. But getting dinner with Shorter and his sister would be fun, even if Charlie was there too.

 _Shit, what the hell do I get Eiji?_

"What?" Eiji asked.

"What?"

"You got a terrified look on your face for a second; did—"

Ash snorted. "No. Nothing to worry about."

Eiji narrowed his eyes.

"For once I'm genuinely not lying when I say that."

"I can't tell if I should be even more suspicious or relax."

Ash rolled his eyes and slung his arm around Eiji's shoulder. "Don't worry." He'd just text Ibe about it. Maybe Ibe kind of liked him now that Eiji wasn't being kidnapped once a week.

Max had asked him to take Michael for the afternoon as a favor, so he and Jessica could buy Michael Christmas gifts. And also have a date with just the two of them. Max said Ash was one of the people he trusted to take care of his kid.

 _Huh_. His hair whipped around his face. Ash wasn't complaining; Michael was cute and precocious. But he had no idea how to handle a kid. Eiji had suggested ice skating, probably because Eiji wanted to go ice-skating.

Weeks, almost months now really, since Dino was gone, and he still felt as if his eyes were crawling over Ash sometimes. He ducked his head as they entered Max and Jessica's building.

"Hey, Eiji. Hey, _kid_ ," Jessica greeted them.

"Hey, Old Lady," Ash taunted. Eiji chuckled.

"How's that brat doing?" Jessica asked, pinning an earring to her ear. Ash was willing to bet Max and Jessica's date involved going to a hotel.

"Yut-Lung's okay," said Eiji. "He had a panic attack last night. I heard him, but sometimes he wants to be left alone when that happens. I think Shorter talked to him, though."

Ash slid his eyes towards Eiji. He hadn't realized that Yut-Lung had nightmares, too. He could hear Sing's voice now: _you two are the same._ He wondered if Yut-Lung could still feeling them following him like he felt Golzine's presence. _Can I ever get rid of him_?

Without the focus of getting rid of him, though, he felt like everything in his life was sand, slipping through his fingers, and he wasn't sure which kernels were worth holding onto and which weren't. At least Eiji wanted to stay with him. He still couldn't imagine why.

"Ash!" Michael flew at him. "And Eiji!"

"Chopped liver," Eiji mumbled as Michael threw his arms around Ash's legs.

"Can we get hot dogs for lunch?"

Jessica nodded.

"Sure," said Ash. "With extra mustard. That's Eiji's favorite."

"I will feed you natto for a week if you say that again," said Eiji.

"It's spicy," said Michael, wrinkling his nose.

Eiji high-fived him.

Max appeared, grinning. He smelled of cologne.

"How's school?" Ash asked.

"Good," Michael said. "We had to write a paper on a hero, so I did you."

Ash almost fell over. " _Me?"_ _I'm no hero._

"I changed your name; Papa helped me."

Max gave Ash a sheepish smile. Ash struggled not to glare at him. A hero meant being someone people looked up to. Ash should not be someone anyone looked up to, least of all a sweet kid like Michael.

 _Murderer. Gang leader. Prostitute._ The words went round and round in his mind, each one tearing at a part of his brain and leaving him bleeding.

Eiji elbowed Ash. He coughed. "Thank you," Ash managed.

"What do you want for Christmas, Michael?" Eiji asked brightly as they headed to the ice rink.

"Nothing," said Michael, hopping over a crack in the sidewalk. "My mom and dad are back together. That's all I wanted."

 _You can't choose your parents,_ Ash had said after he met Michael and Jessica. And he felt like they were bad ones. Not terrible, like his, but…

 _You're good parents, now. You're doing better_. He believed it, for at least this moment.

Ice skating turned out to be fun, though Eiji fell about seven times in ten minutes and Ash got a headache from watching him fall and worrying he'd break his leg. He laughed, though, and eventually Ash had enough and grabbed Eiji by his thick gloved hands.

"I'm not getting off the ice; I'm having fun," Eiji snapped.

"I don't want you to," Ash said, only meaning it as he said it. He pulled Eiji to his feet, pulling him around the ice rink. He went faster than normal, whipping in and out of couples and kids practicing. Eiji yelped, but he was grinning, and Ash's hope to scare Eiji fell away, and he found himself laughing too. It was his legs that eventually gave out, and he toppled down, Eiji falling onto his abdomen.

Eiji pushed himself up, grinning. His hair was tangled around his face. The ice felt cold against Ash's palms. "That was like flying."

Ash smiled. "Yeah. It was."

"Ash, can you do that with me?" called Michael, wobbling over to them.

"Sure." Ash hauled himself to his feet.

"Is Eiji your best friend?" Michael asked as they whizzed through the rink, Eiji clinging to the side as he tried to wobble around.

"Kind of," Ash said. "He's my boyfriend." Well, he'd never made that announcement out loud before. But it was true. He grinned again.

"Cool," said Michael.

When they finally had enough, Ash went to buy hot dogs. He pushed his way through the crowd, bought three—only one with copious mustard—and headed back. He stopped in his tracks.

Eiji sat on a bench, alone.

"Where's Michael?"

"He went after you." Eiji leaped to his feet.

Ash spun around, desperately searching the crowd. He didn't spot Michael's soft head of curls of his red parka. " _Michael!"_

"Calm down," Eiji said. "I'm sure he's around somewhere—"

"No, you don't—" Ash's stomach pinched like he was going to vomit. He raced back towards the stand. Where the hell was he? His mind tumbled through possibilities, hands, sheets, blood and a gun, Skip, a phone call in LA—

"Ash!"

 _The fuck are—_

" _Ash!"_

Ash whirled around. Eiji stood there, Michael by his side. "He was watching a dancer nearby."

Breath flew out of Ash. He dropped to his knees, grabbing Michael by the shoulders. "Don't _ever_ do that again." His hands shook.

Michael blinked. "I'm sorry—what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ash croaked out. "I'm just glad you're—okay." He had to shove it down, pretend it was fine. He had to keep it together for Michael's sake. He grabbed the hot dog from Eiji, aggressively chomping into it. He coughed.

"Don't choke," Eiji warned him.

Ash chewed. He nodded. The food tasted like dust with spice. He kept seeing Skip die. Again and again.

 _I'm no hero_. Skip always looked at him like he was one, though, and he knew it. And Ash let him down.

They dropped Michael back off as the sun was beginning to go down, clouds blocking any scarlets or golds from the sky, allowing only salmon and indigo.

"Ash," Eiji said slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Let's walk through the park on our way back," Eiji said. He reached for Ash's hand, squeezing.

Ash nodded, following. He waited, knowing Eiji was debating what to say and how to say it. The wind whipped by.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Eiji asked. "I'd like you to." He studied his shoes. Some snow remained on the frozen grass in the park.

Ash swallowed. "You don't want to know the kinds of things that go through my mind when a kid just up and vanishes, Eiji."

"I have an idea."

"I was thinking about Skip," Ash said.

"That is not your fault."

"He thought I was... I know he looked up to me, and I couldn't save him. Marvin killed him to punish me." Ash's chest ached. "I'm no hero."

Eiji was quiet.

"You asked me about Christmas," Ash said. "It's not just those memories, from Cape Cod. When I was with Dino, you wouldn't believe the kinds of things some people want for Christmas."

Color drained from Eiji's face.

"He said he wrote a _paper_ about me being a hero," Ash whispered. He watched the purple light maul the clouds. "What kind of a hero is a murdering prostitute? Who lets kids barely older than him get shot?"

"A hero to me," said Eiji. "And to Michael. And to lots of people—all those kids from Dino's club have been rescued now. They have a chance. You would have saved Skip. You help him. I think in the end, you were a person to him, holding him. And you're a person to me, and to Michael, who just happened to do something heroic."

Ash hated himself for the doubt chaining him. "Do those kids have a chance?"

" _You_ do," said Eiji, looking up at him.

A lump grew in Ash's throat. "I just—I know Dino's gone, but I still—and even if it wasn't him, there are other—you wouldn't believe how many fucked up people there are in the world, Eiji."

Eiji sighed. His grip was warm and secure on Ash's hand.

"I wish I wasn't so scared of him," Ash whispered. "I'm terrified, Eiji." He watched as two parents chased their kids through the lawn, trampling what was left of the snow, but they laughed, all four laughs mingling together. "It's like—no matter what I do—even from beyond the grave, he owns a part of me. He has enough power over me to still make me afraid, and he's dead." His chest heaved.

"He's only been dead for less than two months," Eiji said. "There is time. And, Ash, even if you're afraid forever, I'll be here."

 _Forever._

Eiji's promise rang in his memories.

"I just want to be free of him," Ash admitted, stopping on the path. _I feel broken that I can't be. I feel—_ He clenched his jaw.

Eiji wrapped his arms around Ash, right in the middle of a path in Central Park. Ash dropped his head to Eiji's shoulder, hugging him back.

 _I don't want to pollute you with him_.

"I don't want anything to do with him," Ash whispered.

"When I see you," Eiji said, holding tight. "I just see you. Not him."

 _I wish. I wish I could see what you see._

Eiji pulled back, studying Ash's face.

 _I still feel dirty._

"Do you want to talk more, or not?" Eiji asked.

"I do," said Ash. "I also want to do something crazy beforehand."

"What's that?" Eiji tilted his head back.

 _I want to kiss you again._ Ash leaned his face down. His fingers brushed Eiji's chin. He pressed his lips into Eiji's, kissing him in public, at sunset, like any romantic couple might. Like a normal couple, who didn't have to be afraid of gangsters and mafia lurking, watching them, even though he'd probably always have somebody who viewed him as an enemy. Like kissing Eiji wouldn't put Eiji at risk, like he wasn't an inherently polluting risk. And Eiji kissed him back, kissed him like _that_ , like he wasn't afraid, like he wanted more of Ash.

"Get a room," hollered a familiar voice.

Ash broke away, panting. Eiji groaned.

"Yo," said Sing, jogging up to them. "Cute. I'm following you home, by the way."

"I hate you," said Ash.

Sing flipped him off.


	14. Epilogue 2: It's Not Living

_And all I do is sit and think about you_

 _If I knew what you'd do_

 _Collapse my veins wearing beautiful shoes_

 _It's not living if it's not with you_

 _All I do is sit and drink without you_

 _If I choose then I lose_

 _Distract my brain from the terrible news_

 _It's not living if it's not with you_

 _~"It's Not Living (If It's Not With You,)," The 1975_

* * *

Christmas was less than two weeks away now, and New York was limping along after a snowstorm. Eiji stretched, listening to Yut-Lung and Shorter bicker over something in Chinese. Ash had gone out despite the dreary weather, claiming he needed to talk to Charlie. He wouldn't tell Eiji what it was about, only that it wasn't anything to worry about. Which of course meant Eiji was worrying.

His face heated as he remembered the way Ash kissed him in the park: different than before, harsher, more desperate, freer, like nothing was holding him back. It wasn't the sweet hesitance of recent weeks, or the determination of the kiss Ash gave him in prison to pass Eiji that message. And he'd been kissing him like that almost every night since then, his fingers digging into the back of Eiji's neck.

Eiji liked it.

 _Who would you be, Ash, if no one had ever clipped your wings?_

 _I want you to have that chance. As much as it's possible._

Shorter got up, laughing. Judging from the smirk on Yut-Lung's face, Eiji gathered that Yut-Lung had won whatever the argument was. "See you later," said Shorter, ducking out of the apartment.

"Going for food?" Eiji asked.

"I think to see Nadia," said Yut-Lung. He folded his hands on the kitchen table where he sat. "Hey, Eiji?"

"Yeah?" Eiji grabbed a throw pillow from where he sat on the couch, holding it on his lap.

"Do you ever worry that your family won't like Ash?" Yut-Lung got up and put a kettle on for tea.

Eiji flinched.

"I mean, since he's a gang leader in a foreign country with a criminal record and—would a respectable Japanese family—" He swallowed and clutched his forehead. "I don't mean to sound so—"

Eiji got to his feet, heading into the kitchen area. "I don't know. It doesn't matter." He swallowed. "I love him." His father was sick anyways, always in and out of the hospital, and so his mother had other things to worry about besides him.

Yut-Lung's shoulders slumped.

"Are you worried about meeting Nadia?"

Yut-Lung nodded. "The Lees were always—respected and feared. I know Shorter's parents taught them to respect and fear us. But they—we—threatened her life, forced Shorter to—I know he doesn't hold it against me, but he's her baby brother."

Eiji had a hard time picturing Shorter as anyone's baby brother, even though he knew it was true. He sighed.

"If someone threatened you to get to your little sister, even if they worked it out, would you—"

"Hey, how do you know I have a little sister?" Eiji demanded. He was pretty sure he hadn't mentioned it to Yut-Lung.

Yut-Lung grabbed two mugs. He smirked again. "I know lots of things."

Eiji glowered at him. Yut-Lung laughed.

"I don't know," Eiji admitted, biting his lip. "But you're what, seventeen now? None of us fault you for it. Shorter _really_ likes you. Ash has commented on it. He's happy you make Shorter happy."

Yut-Lung's face flushed. "I love him." The words came out quiet, roped with hesitance and with shields lowered, but still held just in case.

"I'm glad," said Eiji. "You and Ash both deserve to have someone to love."

"So do you." Yut-Lung poured tea, but he was smiling.

"Well," said Eiji, leaning over the counter. "I don't know what Nadia will think, but I know what Shorter will think, even if she doesn't like you. He'll stay by your side. That's what I would do."

Yut-Lung froze, hand clutching the mug's arm. He swallowed. "I hope so." He studied his shoes. "Thank you, Eiji."

"I want Ash to meet my family," Eiji said, sitting across from Yut-Lung at the table. "Eventually. When he's ready." He sipped the tea. It was too hot, but the taste of jasmine soothed the burn on his tongue. He could call them tonight. Tell them that he'd fallen in love with Ash.

 _I'm still afraid to take risks sometimes._

 _But Ash, for you…_

"Can I ask you something?" Eiji asked, chest tightening. This. _This_ was a risk, right now. His face felt more scalded than the tea mug he clutched between his hands.

"Yes," said Yut-Lung. "Though, just so you know, it's actually _may I,_ not _can I_. _Can_ implies that you don't have the ability, but you do, unless your tongue's about to fall out of your mouth."

"Okay," Eiji said, wrinkling his nose. _"May_ I?"

"Yes." Yut-Lung sounded pleased with his grammar lesson.

"It's personal," Eiji warned.

Yut-Lung stiffened. "Okay…"

"What's sex like?"

Yut-Lung choked on his tea.

"I thought about asking Shorter, but I think you're more likely to be respectful," Eiji rushed to say. "I mean, I thought—because you and Shorter were in the same room, sometimes—so—Ash and I haven't—but lately he's been kissing me and I was thinking about it and—I don't want to push him, I'm okay waiting like years, or never, but I was just wondering what and how—because of Ash's—and you—" He was messing this up. "You really don't have to answer if—"

Yut-Lung grabbed a napkin, wiping tea from his mouth and shirt. He eyed Eiji. "I wouldn't know. I'm not the person to ask. Shorter and I have not... had sex."

"Oh." Eiji now wanted to die. "I'm sorry. I assumed—"

"You don't have to be sorry," Yut-Lung said. "It's not an... illogical assumption. I've been sleeping in Shorter's room the past week because I keep having nightmares. We just—it hasn't gone that far."

"Ash gets nightmares, too," Eiji said softly. Guilt chewed at him.

"Unfortunately, my only—experiences—have been with—well, not exactly—you know what I'm saying." He looked down into his tea. "And same for Ash, I imagine, and Shorter's only done with with girls, so if you're looking for specifics you're fresh out of luck." A smile curved at his lips as if he was enjoying Eiji's discomfort.

"I wasn't—"

"Though," Yut-Lung said. "I do wonder what it'd be like. I think about it. Doing it with someone you like, who likes you, someone you know won't hurt you. Making a choice for yourself." He rested his chin on his fist. "I think I'd like to do it, then. But there's a part of me that—is nervous that if I even suggested it I'd be—what they used to make me—but—" He met Eiji's eyes. "It means a lot to me that Shorter's never pressed."

Eiji nodded.

"But part of me also wishes he would," said Yut-Lung. "I'm sure he would have suggested it, if I weren't me. With all my baggage."

"But you are you," said Eiji. "And he's dating _you_ , and he wants to be with you."

Yut-Lung's face softened. He nodded, drinking more tea. "I would like to," he admitted. He studied Eiji, as if looking for a sign of judgement.

Eiji nodded.

"Give Ash time," said Yut-Lung.

"If he never wanted to, I would not care," Eiji said. "I just wondered because of that kiss in the park. I like him because he's him, and—"

"I know," Yut-Lung said. "You don't have to convince me."

"What are you two talking about?" called a voice from Yut-Lung's room. Eiji stiffened. He'd forgotten Sing had taken a nap in there.

"Nothing," Eiji insisted.

Yut-Lung groaned.

"I heard the word _sex_ ," said Sing, settling down at the table. "So I was wondering—"

"This is not a conversation for a fourteen-year-old," Yut-Lung snapped. He rolled his eyes at Eiji, and Eiji thought of how Sing was like him, growing up without this kind of pain.

"Why not?"

Eiji covered Sing's ears for him. Sing yelped.

"I will poison your food if you even think about it at your age," Yut-Lung warned.

"I'll help," Eiji said.

"Jesus!" shrieked Sing. "Okay, okay, you're both sick!"

* * *

"Wait, you're going shopping?" asked Sing. "Can I come with you?"

Yut-Lung rolled his eyes. He had to excuse himself from that conversation before his organs melted from embarrassment. "I'm not buying you anything."

"Why are you like this?" Sing complained, face red.

"Coming or not?" Yut-Lung adjusted his coat as he stood in the doorway.

"Coming," Sing mumbled, dragging himself up. Eiji waved.

His words echoed in Yut-Lung's mind, the innocence of his question. What Yut-Lung would give to have to ask that. Though, he supposed he didn't know what it was like to be with someone you loved. If his mother hadn't been killed, he might be at an age where he'd only just be starting to think about sex, like a normal teenager. He leaned his head back against the elevator wall.

Seventeen. He should still be in high school, or college, since he'd gotten his high school diploma well over a year ago. Not a murderer given another chance, heir to a crime syndicate he was passing on to others.

"Remember when I had to guard you?" Sing asked.

Yut-Lung glared at him.

"Whoa, chill, I'm just teasing." Sing's hands flew up. "Shopping with you is always an adventure. It's like you grew up in a different world."

Yut-Lung shrugged. "They said I'm the one who gets it all, according to my brothers' wills. Even though I killed them." The police didn't seem pressed to look too deeply into it. Which Yut-Lung was both grateful for and felt guilty about.

" _Why do I get a second chance?" he'd asked Shorter, huddled in his bed with his knees up against his chest._

" _I must have missed something, because I didn't realize you'd gotten a first one," Shorter had replied._

Fair enough, Yut-Lung supposed. "I want to use it for something that makes people smile instead of afraid," Yut-Lung said. "Though Eiji got Ibe to make sure I put some into savings." It wasn't like Yut-Lung didn't know that, though. His brothers were bankers. He knew how it worked. But he kind of liked having someone tell him what to do, like he was any other naive seventeen-year-old.

 _I just want to be normal._

"Do you know what you're getting Shorter for Christmas?" asked Sing. "We don't really buy each other things. Lao got me scratch tickets last year. They were fun. I won a dollar."

"I don't know what I'm getting Shorter and I don't know what I'm getting you," Yut-Lung said. The cold nipped at his nose. The city was lit up with Christmas lights at night. He hesitated. "I did say I'd be your benefactor once."

"What's that supposed to mean? You've like, already handled over control of Chinatown to me and Shorter. You're pretty much just in name only. Also, you said you weren't buying me anything tonight and now I'm going to hold you to that."

"I'm aware." Yut-Lung blew his breath out. It formed a frosted puff in the air. "For my gift to you, why don't I give you money, so you can buy what you want for people? Without having to worry about affording it."

Sing eyed him. "Who are you, and what have you done with Yut-Lung?"

Yut-Lung flipped him off. He ducked into a department store, Sing following. "Last time I was in a place like this," said Yut-Lung. "Was when I bought Shorter his sneakers. The salesperson assumed Shorter and I were dating."

"He was psychic," declared Sing.

Yut-Lung eyed the merchandise. He could get Eiji a leather jacket. Eiji would look great in it. Ash was harder to buy for. Maybe a book, but he wouldn't find it here. He and Sing stopped to buy fancy hot chocolate, the kind that came with a small sample of gourmet chocolate, and were about to leave when he heard a voice calling out to them.

"Sing! Yut-Lung!"

He turned. Max waved at them, Jessica and Michael behind him. "This one wanted to see Santa," said Max.

"He's not real," said Michael. "But he is fun."

Sing snorted.

Yut-Lung gulped. He still couldn't look Jessica in the eye, when he remembered the things that were done to her under his brother's direction. And his, even though Jessica said he was just a child.

"He is too," Max insisted.

 _It's a lost cause, give it up._ Yut-Lung studied his shoes, scuffed and stained from the salt coating the sidewalks. Sing and Michael started debating about a comic book superhero.

"Hey, rude boy," said Jessica. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Yut-Lung stiffened. He turned to her, pressing his lips together.

"Looking forward to seeing you at Christmas," was all she said, but she smiled.

Yut-Lung opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He nodded.

"Why is your hair so long?" asked Michael, looking up at him.

 _Me? My hair?_ Yut-Lung stared down at the child. "I like growing it out."

"But you're a boy."

"Boys can have long hair, if they want to." Yut-Lung gulped. He had no idea how to handle children.

"It's pretty," said Michael.

 _Pretty_? He remembered his mother's hand, clutching her red brush, combing and combing her hair, it swaying back and forth down her back while he watched. He thought how pretty she looked.

Yut-Lung crouched down to be on Michael's level. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Michael beamed. "Papa, can we get pizza for dinner?"

"Nope," said Jessica. "Nice try, though." She smiled at Yut-Lung. "You'll have to tell me what you use on your hair."

"Good genes," said Yut-Lung. "And a certain brand of shampoo."

She laughed.

"See? They don't hate you," Sing commented after they left.

Yut-Lung rubbed the back of his neck as they strode down the sidewalk. "They don't," he agreed. Michael even seemed to like him well enough. A kid. Liked him.

 _I can't be too broken, then._ And Jessica had smiled at him. And complimented him. She kind of looked like a blond version of his mother, with her long hair and no-nonsense attitude.

"Oh my god, you actually agreed with me," Sing said. "It's a Christmas miracle."

Yut-Lung shoved him. Sing snorted and crouched down.

"You okay?" Yut-Lung asked.

Sing whirled around and threw a chunk of snow and ice into his face. Yut-Lung's jaw dropped. Sing was laughing. Yut-Lung's eyes narrowed.

"Uh-oh," said Sing, turning on his heel and darting down the street.

The hell with dignity. Yut-Lung chased him, bags flapping at his side. He hurled a handful of snow at him.

"You missed!" taunted Sing.

"Get back here!"

Was this what normal teenagers did? It almost felt like it might be. Yut-Lung panted as they weaved through the crowds, for once not running for their lives but to throw snow at each other. Sing accidentally hurled snow on a young woman, who shrieked. "Sorry, sorry!"

"Pathetic," called Yut-Lung. Sing raced across the street just as a truck blared its horn, forcing Yut-Lung to stumble back to the sidewalk. Dammit! He darted across, looking for Sing. He slowed.

A handful of ice pressed against his neck. Yut-Lung yelped.

"Ha! 2-0!" Sing booked it towards the condo. Yut-Lung grabbed a handful of snow, finally catching up as they reached the building. He dumped it on Sing's head, rubbing the frigid snow into Sing's hair.

"Should I ask?" Ash's voice interrupted. Hands in his pockets, he headed up the street towards them.

Yut-Lung noted how Sing's face turned sheepish. "No," he recommended.

"Okay then." Ash smirked as he let them into the building.

Shorter was already inside, and he burst into laughing when he saw Yut-Lung and Sing dropping with snow. "Have fun?"

"He has terrible aim," said Sing.

"I'm not the one who hit a random girl!" Yut-Lung countered.

"Wait, did he really?" asked Ash. Yut-Lung nodded. Ash guffawed.

Shorter slung his arm around Yut-Lung, wet and all. Yut-Lung relaxed.

That night, after Sing left and Yut-Lung took a hot shower, Yut-Lung sat combing his hair in his room. He still felt light, like he was floating. Jessica was okay with him. Michael liked him. He and Sing had a fight with snow instead of with bullets or knives. He wasn't some kind of inherently dirty person whom everyone somehow knew was broken and refused to deal with as a result.

 _People can like me._

Eiji didn't even think he was broken. And Shorter… it wasn't because he had to like him or tolerate him. _Maybe you really do want to be with me, because… because you really do like me._

He'd never really thought like that before. Even when Shorter was there when he had nightmares, even when he slept in Shorter's room without him trying anything, even when Shorter kissed him, constantly checking his eyes to see if he was okay, he still thought of himself as something to be tolerated, like Wang-Lung always said he was.

 _Screw you, Wang-Lung._ Yut-Lung got to his feet. He set the brush down with a clack, tossing his hair over his shoulder. He knocked on Shorter's door.

Shorter flung it open. "Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"

Yut-Lung shook his head. He slipped inside and hesitated.

"What happened?"

"Only good things," said Yut-Lung. He met Shorter's eyes, unshielded by his sunglasses. They were the color of ginger tea. "You like me."

"Um, yes? I'm dating you." Shorter cocked his head. "I mean—did I do something wrong, to make you think that I—"

"No," Yut-Lung broke in, heart pounding. "You didn't." He reached up, wrapping his arms around Shorter, and pressed his lips against his.

This was the first time he initiated. He asked Shorter to kiss him often, but he never started it. He worried what Shorter might think of him. But—but— _I trust you._

Shorter's mouth opened instantly, kissing Yut-Lung back. Yut-Lung pushed him back against the wall, clutching his shoulders. Shorter's fingers roved through Yut-Lung's hair, damp from his shower, careful at first not to tangle it, and then he just gripped it. Their teeth clacked. Shorter snorted. His lips trailed down Yut-Lung's neck, latching on. Yut-Lung sucked in his breath. His fingers dug into Shorter's sides.

"Sorry," Shorter managed, pulling back.

"Don't be," Yut-Lung said. He pressed his forehead against Shorter's. "What if we tried and—saw how far we could go? I mean, if you wanted to. I could stop it at any point, or you could, but we don't _have_ to."

"What brought this on? Not that I'm complaining," Shorter added, rubbing his forehead. His other hand traced Yut-Lung's jaw.

"I talked with Eiji."

Shorter looked as if Yut-Lung had just handed him a math problem.

"And I realized I really—don't think you'd hurt me," Yut-Lung said. "And I trust you. I really trust you. I want to—I think I can do what I want, now. If you want, of course."

"Um, not that I don't want to," said Shorter. "But..." He pulled back. "You realize that this isn't how you have to show affection, right? I _know_ you like me." He bopped Yut-Lung on the head. "You're cute and obvious with your feelings. And I trust you, and you don't owe me for liking you, or for being with you. I _believe_ you like me, and you don't have to do anything physical to prove that you do. Believe it or not, despite me clearly being a very virile and attractive man, I will not die from a lack of sex."

Yut-Lung's nose wrinkled. "You don't want me?" He felt like that wasn't the case, though. He knew it wasn't.

"That's not it," said Shorter. He pressed his forehead against Yut-Lung's.

 _You want all of me. And that means you don't want me to be used, or to use my body to prove anything like I always have._

"You would never hurt me," Yut-Lung said. "Trust me, too. Tonight, or another night. It doesn't have to be now. Whenever you're ready." He squeezed Shorter's shoulder. _Thank you._

Shorter hesitated. He lowered his lips to Yut-Lung's again. "You really can stop it whenever you want."

Yut-Lung nodded. Shorter's lips delved down again. When his shirt came off, Shorter kissed him down his sternum, ran his palms and fingers over his stomach and sides, felt the space between his ribs and the softness of his skin like he was something to be treasured. And it wasn't just his body, a tool, like it had been for Yut-Lung before. Shorter's eyes kept checking with him, checking what was okay and what was not. He held him close. He called him by his name. He knew him.

"I don't want to stop," Yut-Lung managed when Shorter paused. "I'm nervous, but—I don't want to stop." _I trust you. And I don't have to prove anything, and I know it, but—I really want to try._

Shorter hesitated, and then he pulled back. "I won't hurt you."

"I know," Yut-Lung said, looking up at him.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, and Shorter kissed him again.

 _You trust me, too._ Yut-Lung relaxed. He pulled him closer. There were memories, of course, knocking around inside his skull.

 _I want to forget._

 _I'll never completely forget._

 _But you're still here._

Sweat dampened Shorter's purple mohawk, and he kept murmuring Yut-Lung's name like it was something precious. No masks, not the frozen face or the fake smile Yut-Lung had used in the past, no fake dignity to mask a horrific violation, but awkwardness and shifting and repeated assurances, and through it all he kept his eyes on Shorter's face.

And then Yut-Lung almost snickered.

"What?" Shorter mumbled, lifting his head up, resting his chin on Yut-Lung's chest.

"Your face just looked really funny," Yut-Lung said.

Shorter's eyes narrowed, but he was laughing too. "You're beautiful," said Shorter, pressing his face into Yut-Lung's neck. "I can't believe you like me."

For the first time, beauty felt like a gift to him, and not a curse, and it felt like something tangible and permanent, not a whimsical temporality. _You, too,_ Yut-Lung thought. _You're beautiful. Even if your face looked like a twisted handkerchief.  
_

Yut-Lung rolled over, leaning against Shorter as they both caught their breath.

"You're smiling," Shorter said, thumb on his cheek.

"Yeah," Yut-Lung eked out. He snorted. "I guess I am." He closed his eyes.

He felt a hand in his hair again, a chaste kiss on the top of his scalp. The whisper came soft. "I love you."

Yut-Lung's eyes flew open. He checked. It really was what he'd said?

Well, now he was crying. "Me too," he said. "I mean, I love you, too."


	15. Epilogue 3: Maps for the Getaway

_Parked outside the house we used to live_

 _Staring down the green roof and the walls_

 _The balcony, the hills, the pain_

 _The years of hope, the months of rain_

 _Now that we're outside it_

 _I guess we survived it after all_

 _~"Maps for the Getaway," Andrew McMahon_

* * *

Ash jerked awake, heart racing. Cold sweat dampened his tank top and the pillow beneath him. Eiji slept soundly by his side.

Ash swallowed the sensation that Dino's hands were around his throat, choking him. He was here. Breathing. Alive, with Eiji by his side.

 _Forever._

 _I hope._

Ash dragged himself out of bed, stumbling into the living room. More snow. He checked his phone. Well, if he was forced to get an early start today, maybe it'd be better to just do what he'd been planning to do today instead of waiting until the weekend. Christmas was only a week away now; he was running out of time.

"Sleep not your friend tonight?" asked a voice.

Ash jumped. "Jesus, Yut-Lung."

Yut-Lung sat at the kitchen table, hair loose and tumbling around his shoulders. A cup of tea sat in front of him. Ash could smell the jasmine. "Water's still hot if you want one."

Ash shrugged.

"Nightmare?" Yut-Lung said, leaning back. He glanced at his reflection in the black stove. "Me, too." He exhaled. "But I went over a week without one before tonight, this time, so that's something. I guess."

"Do you feel like they're still alive?" Ash asked. "Even though you know they aren't?"

"Yes. I wake up and I'm half-expecting to see Hua-Lung standing over my bed," Yut-Lung admitted. He played with the edges of his hair. "It sucks."

"It does." Ash poured himself some of the tea and sat down. He blew on it to cool it down.

"Having Shorter around helps, but I don't want to bother him all the time," said Yut-Lung. "Even though I logically know I'm not a bother, or so he says. And you're not for Eiji."

Ash swallowed. "I hope not." It came out gruff. He did not want to talk feelings with Yut-Lung. Even if he had noticed how Shorter looked at him, how he made Shorter smile, how Yut-Lung was really everyone's friend and trying so hard, too hard, and he hated himself because he was still afraid of extending his own hand.

 _You're the same._

 _Please shut up, Sing's-voice-in-my-head._

"You're not."

Ash sighed. "Thanks." He ran his finger around the rim of the mug, collecting condensation. He remembered the way Yut-Lung looked at him that night they raided the Lee house, when he and Shorter entered that room and Ash, despite all he had seen and done and all that had been done to him, still didn't fully connect what was happening even as he heard the familiar sounds and saw Yut-Lung's hair. Not until he heard Yut-Lung try to speak and Shorter snapped into action, slicing Hua-Lung's throat. And then it was like he was looking at himself, scrambling back in terror, looking at him like he fully expected him to unleash the words they both knew they called themselves.

 _I don't think you are a whore._

 _Why can't I believe I'm not one?_ Or that it didn't define him, at the very least. Since, technically, he and Yut-Lung both had been, but it's not like they had a choice.

 _I don't know how to convince you that you aren't, because I still call myself that._

 _Help me._

Yut-Lung's eyes widened. They were amethyst to Ash's jade. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You look nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"Liar."

"Shut up." Ash got to his feet. "I just have somewhere to go today. I'll be back late."

 _Coward._

 _Fight back._

 _Don't go, you selfish prick._

All the thoughts were tearing him apart.

"Where?" Yut-Lung asked.

"It's for Eiji. And it doesn't involve murder, most likely anyways, so don't worry." Ash exhaled. "I gotta catch a bus to Boston in forty-five minutes."

"Why Boston?" Yut-Lung got to his feet, dumping his mug in the sink.

"It's where my old man is from." Ash gave him a wry smile. "Figured out why I'm jumpy yet?" He tapped his fingers on the stove.

"Do you have to go alone?"

"It is necessary for a surprise for Eiji, and Shorter has to help Nadia today. She's been feeling under the weather." That, and he felt guilty asking Shorter to meet his old man again.

"I could go with you. I don't have anything to do today, and I'm bored."

Ash opened his mouth. His first instinct was to refuse. He could just imagine his father's impression of Yut-Lung, with his long hair and androgynous features. Then again, his father would probably underestimate Yut-Lung.

It'd also be the first time he'd see the man since Jennifer died. Guilt still clamped down on Ash's neck at the memory. _What makes you think you can go back there?_ His father didn't hate him, when they parted, but with time, some wounds didn't heal. Some wounds festered.

"Why not?" he managed.

He sent a text to Eiji. _I'm going out with Yut-Lung. Nothing dangerous I promise. See you tonight_.

"Why are we traveling like peasants?" Yut-Lung complained when they boarded their bus.

"Shut up or I'll throw you out."

"Good luck with that; Charlie wouldn't like that considering your charges have finally been dropped thanks to his hard work."

Ash winced. _Really?_ "Well, get used to it. We have to catch another bus in Boston to get to Cape Cod."

Yut-Lung sighed. "Is this how you normally visit?"

"I don't normally visit."

Yut-Lung nodded. "I see."

Ash leaned his forehead against the window. "I only visited once. With Eiji and Shorter and Max and Ibe. And Golzine's goons showed up and killed my dad's girlfriend. And he wasn't very welcoming before then. But he did cover for me, after I helped kill those men. Me and Shorter, we both killed them. I can only imagine what he'll be like today." Ash bit his lip. "Jennifer was a nice woman. She didn't deserve anything life threw at her. Not dating the likes of my father nor getting shot just as she was being let go."

"I'm guessing you turned yourself in to free her," Yut-Lung remarked. "What? Don't look at me like that. You have a sacrifice complex. You don't think you're worth anything, but your loved ones are worth everything to you."

Ash scowled. "Why did I invite you?"

"I don't know, but you did," Yut-Lung said in a sing-song voice. His voice came quieter. "Was she like a mother?"

Ash shook his head. "No. Not really. I didn't really even live with her—Griffin raised me until I was five, and then he went to join the military. My mother ditched me soon after I was born. She didn't think I was worth anything to her, apparently."

"I'm sorry," said Yut-Lung. He studied his palms.

"Your mother loved you," Ash said. He thought of the woman whose face he had no images of. _Why didn't you love me? What was broken about me? Why did you give me life and this name, but left me?_

Yut-Lung nodded. "She was fifteen when she had me." He met Ash's gaze. "She was like us, really, but my father was fond of her. Like Golzine, or Hua-Lung being fond of me. But he was kinder than they were. I think. If that counts as kindness." He twisted his hands in his lap. "If she'd ditched me, maybe she'd be alive."

"And maybe you wouldn't be," Ash said.

Yut-Lung arched his eyebrows.

"What?" Ash said. "You're not bad to have around. Not all the time. And you're dating my best friend." He blew his breath out. "Griffin was fifteen when I was born. When he started raising me. Dad ditched me and him for Jennifer and the diner soon after. Wasn't her fault though."

"Don't let Sing find out; he'll say we're the same again," Yut-Lung warned.

Ash snorted. Yut-Lung laughed.

"At least he got to leave," said Ash. "But he still couldn't—that's where he got injected with Banana Fish."

 _"Griffin, there's a pumpkin monster under my bed."_

 _"Shh," Griff said, pulling the blankets up over Ash. "I just checked. It ran away."_

 _"Really?" Ash knew he was lying, even at five. But Griffin was smiling._

 _"Really. No monsters are going to get to my brother while I'm here." He kissed Ash's forehead._

"I don't think you were a burden to him," said Yut-Lung. "I really don't. You love him. I'm guessing he loved you, too. He would have protected you with his life. He joined the military to do that, I'm guessing. Not that he had very many options."

Ash swallowed. "When he left—that's when the baseball coach—he was the first one." _And your brothers... instead of protecting you, they raped you._

"Hua-Lung assaulted me the morning after he killed my mother."

"It happened to me after Griffin left," Ash confirmed.

Yut-Lung sighed.

"They were like our safeguards," Ash mused. "Griff, and your mother."

"Angels," said Yut-Lung. "If there's a heaven, they're there."

Ash smiled. The sunrise began to glow outside as the bus rumbled through the highways of Connecticut. "Yeah," he said. "They are."

Boston was windy and cold, as per usual. Ash and Yut-Lung had to run through a bustling South Station with poorly marked signs to make their bus to Cape Cod. And once they arrived on the cape two hours later, they had to trek towards the diner. Ash could only hope his father had what Charlie said he needed.

The air smelled of salt and ice. Grit crunched under Ash's boots. The snow here hadn't melted like it had in New York City. Yut-Lung ducked his head against the wind.

"Do you think it's still open?" Yut-Lung wondered, teeth chattering. His hair flew around his face. "I mean—after what you said happened—"

"It better be," Ash responded. Anxiety tugged at him. What if it wasn't? He needed to talk to his father. He needed those papers, dammit, for Eiji.

They passed the street that led to his baseball coach's house. Ash refused to look down it. The diner loomed ahead. And there were a few cars, the regulars, parked there. "I'm surprised he kept it open," Ash commented. "I figured he'd still live here, but working after she's gone—weird for him. Commitment wasn't his thing, obviously."

"Obviously."

Ash pushed open the door. An elderly couple sat at a table in the corner, sipping coffee, and a mom with three kids overdosing on pancakes and sugar sat at the window. It was an odd time of year—no tourists like there would be throughout the summer.

"Should we go out back?" Yut-Lung asked, gulping.

"Nah." Ash took a seat by the bar. Yut-Lung sat next to him. A waiter, a new hire clearly, hurried over. "Hungry?"

"Kind of," Yut-Lung said.

Ash ordered for them. "He's probably out back."

Yut-Lung nodded. The coffee tasted watery and Yut-Lung's nose wrinkled, but the omelettes were delicious. Jennifer's old recipe. Griff learned how to make them for Ash. He remembered trying to help Griffin, and burning things. Griff would laugh.

When the waiter came to give them their check, every other customer had left. "Can I talk to your manager?" Ash asked.

Yut-Lung pressed his lips together. He looked almost as nervous as Ash felt. Ash chugged more coffee to crush the butterflies fluttering and ants stampeding in his stomach.

His father emerged from the backroom, towel-drying his hands. He froze when he saw Ash.

"Hey," said Ash. His hands gripped the table to keep from shaking. His knuckles ached. Yut-Lung peered up at the man, a frown on his face.

"What did you come back for?" his father asked.

Cutting right to the point. "I need records. My birth certificate."

"Why? You fleeing the country or something now?" His father's brow creased.

"Not hardly." Ash crossed his arms. "Look, if I knew where it was, I would have just taken it. I wouldn't want to bother you." It wasn't like he was looking forward to dealing with the man and with the scalding hot guilt that washed over him every time he looked towards the counter and didn't see Jennifer.

His father swallowed. "Who's this?" He gestured towards Yut-Lung.

"A friend," said Ash.

"Girlfriend?"

"I'm a guy, thank you," said Yut-Lung, tilting his head.

His father's eyes narrowed as they ran up and down Yut-Lung, taking in his hair and fitted yellow coat.

"Yut-Lung Lee," said Yut-Lung, holding out his hand. "From the billionaire banker family in New York. Unless you aren't educated enough to have heard of us."

Ah, there it was. Yut-Lung's shield, the one he hated, the one he was digging out for Ash. Ash wanted to groan. _You don't have to do that, you sacrificial dumbass_.

"Well, at least he's rich," said his father.

"He's not my boyfriend," Ash said.

" _Definitely_ not," Yut-Lung said. "I'm dating his best friend."

"Shorter," Ash said. "Purple mohawk. You met him. And you already met _my_ boyfriend too. Eiji Okumura, remember? The Japanese one." Yut-Lung and Ash exchanged a smirk.

His father rolled his eyes. "If you're here to ask a favor, trying to antagonize me isn't a good idea."

"Look," Ash said. "I need that birth certificate. And then I'll leave. I know you don't want me around, especially after what happened with Jennifer. I'm sorry about that." He studied his fraying shoes. _You probably wish it was me, didn't you? Me instead of her._

His father grunted. "It's probably back at the house. I'll get you the keys."

Yut-Lung crossed his arms.

He tossed the key ring at Ash. Ash turned to leave. Yut-Lung followed. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

Ash let out his breath as he reached his house, the one that lurked with Griffin's ghost. "I don't see why he's so disappointed in me. He hardly put the time and effort into raising me; you'd think he wouldn't have a say."

"You raised you," Yut-Lung agreed. "After Griffin, that is."

Ash pushed the door open to the house. The floorboards creaked. Yut-Lung was silent, as if he appreciated this place's reverence even though it was just a shit house that no one had lived in for over a dozen years.

"He was probably glad to get rid of me," Ash said, rifling through the nearest desk. "After I got raped and killed that guy. My baseball coach."

Yut-Lung paused by the cabinets he was searching through. "If he was glad, he sucks."

"No," Ash said. "I'd like to think that. I just think it's more like he had no idea how to help me, or how to be a father at all. He's the sort of man who should never have had children, but he wasn't smart enough not to wear a condom." Dust wafted up towards his nose. He coughed.

Yut-Lung cringed. "He could have learned how to be a father."

He could have learned.

He could have. Ash paused, his finger having sliced itself against an envelope. His old report cards. He wondered why Griff had saved them.

But that was precisely it, wasn't it?

"None of us chose the lots we have in life," said Yut-Lung. "But we learn to do what we can. You survived, and you even have people around you who love you. You're stronger than he is. He's just a bitter old man with no one left to love him and no one who even wants to fuck him anymore."

Ash closed the desk, heading up the stairs to Griffin's old room. "Yeah," he said thickly. "Can you look in that room? It's my old one." He gestured.

Yut-Lung nodded, ducking inside.

"There might be mice, just to warn you," yelled Ash.

Yut-Lung whimpered.

Ash rifled through the drawers of Griffin's dresser. His fingers brushed the baseball jersey Griffin used to wear. The dust tickled his nose again. His eyes stung.

Nothing. He turned towards the closet. There was some shelving in there. He wondered if Griffin expected to return home to this place, someday. But because of Banana Fish, he couldn't.

An old manila envelope. Ash ripped it open. Griffin's military records. His report cards, too. And—his birth certificate. But on top of the certificate was a photograph.

Griffin, as a teenager, a newborn in his arms. On the back, in unfamiliar handwriting: _Griffin & Aslan, August 12_. The corners had holes in them, as if someone had thumbtacked it up before.

Was this his mother's handwriting?

 _You kept this, Griffin_.

"Ash?" Yut-Lung approached from behind. "I didn't find—oh, did you find it?"

He nodded. He still stared at the photograph.

"Aslan Jade Callenreese," Yut-Lung read. "Well, that explains the sacrificial element. You're literally fantasy lion Jesus." He stopped, taking in the photograph. "Wow."

Ash gulped.

"He looks like everything a good brother should have been," Yut-Lung said.

"He was," Ash said. "When he left—if he hadn't, none of it would have happened. But it's not his fault."

"It's not," Yut-Lung agreed.

 _It's not your mother's fault either._

She might not have loved him, Ash's mother. His father might not know how to love him. But Griffin did. Eiji did. Shorter and Sing and Yut-Lung and Max.

Yut-Lung's hand landed awkwardly on his shoulder. The photograph blurred in Ash's vision.

 _It's enough._

 _I'm not deficient_.

 _Even if you left me, both of you, Griff didn't mean to. Eiji won't_.

They left the house with Ash's birth certificate and the photograph stored in the pockets of his torn jeans. The sun sat low and heavy in the late afternoon sky. "Now will you tell me what it's for?" Yut-Lung requested.

"Eiji's Christmas present," was all Ash said. Yut-Lung shrugged.

"Found it," Ash announced as they entered the diner. He tossed the keys onto the counter. "See ya around, old man."

His father glanced up. "I read the news, Ash."

"Did you?" Ash did not want to talk about this.

"I'm impressed you can read," remarked Yut-Lung.

"Where did you meet _him?"_ asked his father. "I didn't know whores were allowed to talk back."

Ash swore. Yut-Lung flinched as if he'd been slapped.

"That's how he makes friends," said his father. "So I—"

"Have you ever considered that not all of us have always had the privilege of deciding where to stick our dicks?" Yut-Lung demanded.

Ash didn't know if he wanted to disappear or listen to what was about to happen on repeat.

"Ash had no choice. I had no choice."

"He's smart."

"So? He was still a kid," shot back Yut-Lung. "Those billionaire bankers, my brothers—they whored me out to people. They raped me themselves. I don't care what you call me. I had no choice about being a whore and that's what they called my mother, too, before and after they butchered her in front of me when I was six. It was just a word they used to excuse themselves, like you're using it to excuse the fact that you're a shitty father and you _know_ it. You know how shitty you are. Your son needed you and you were too weak to help him, so you're blaming him for it. _You're_ the whore. You're the one who chose fucking someone else and running away from your own kids, leaving them to raise each other, above taking care of two people you created. You suck." Yut-Lung turned around in a huff, stalking towards the door. "Face it. You're the one who failed."

Ash gaped. He couldn't even look at his father. The man's breaths came quick, sharp. He turned to leave.

"Wait," croaked his father. "I was going to—I mean—I was going to say based on what I saw you did on the news, you—I was proud of you."

"Well, you shouldn't _have_ to be," called Yut-Lung. "And if you want to have any idea what a real family looks like, you should visit Ash's gang sometime."

 _Proud_. Ash's head swam. Blue fear, purple hope, gray emptiness. What did that even mean? Especially at this point?

 _I wasn't enough for you._

 _You weren't enough for me, and that's your sin._

 _I was enough for Griff._

Ash put his hand over the photo in his pocket. He turned to look at his father. "Thank you." _You do love me. It just wasn't enough._

His father nodded.

"Merry Christmas," Ash said.

"Merry Christmas."

Ash pushed the door open, joining Yut-Lung in the frigid air outside. "Thanks," he said as they headed back towards the bus station. Where, of course, they would have to wait two hours to catch another one to Boston.

"I'm sorry."

"You know, I heard Eiji told him off last time we were here, but I didn't know it," Ash said.

"Eiji?" Yut-Lung's eyes bulged. "What I would give to have heard that."

"Me too." Ash sighed. "I don't hate him though. In his own way, he cares. It's just not enough."

"Yeah."

"Wanna wait at the library?"

"Are you going to steal books?"

"No, I'm going to read them and return them. I guess you read slow, so if you need to steal them, I'll help you."

"I do not!"


	16. Epilogue 4: I Know a Place

_Somebody hurt you_

 _But you're here by my side_

 _And I knew_

 _'Cause I can recall when I was the one in your seat_

 _I still got the scars and they occasionally bleed_

 _'Cause somebody hurt me_

 _Somebody hurt me_

 _But I'm staying alive_

 _And I can tell_

 _When you get nervous_

 _You think being yourself means being unworthy_

 _And it's hard to love with a heart that's hurting_

 _~"I Know a Place," Muna_

* * *

"They're dead," said Eiji at ten in the evening.

"They are not." Shorter rolled his eyes. "Have more faith in both of them." Still, he bit his lip. Yut-Lung had texted that he and Ash were fine and would be back late, but this was _very_ late.

"I have faith in Ash and I have faith in Yut-Lung," Eiji said. "It's having them both together that concerns me."

 _Okay, fair._ Shorter scowled.

"They're not dead," proclaimed Shorter at eleven. "They're just going to be dead when they come back here and I kill them."

"Can I help?" Eiji requested, drinking his sixth cup of tea.

 _They're fine,_ Sing texted at midnight. _Yut-Lung texted me a complaint about fast food. He's fine._

Shorter's mind whizzed through a pile of potential enemies. _Haven't heard any buzzing about the mafia in a month,_ Cain responded around one in the morning.

When Shorter heard the door opening at two, relief flooded him. He leapt to his feet.

"That's the last time I travel on a bus," complained Yut-Lung.

"Oh, shut up, you're not royalty," grumbled Ash. He froze. "Holy shit, they're awake."

"Huh?"

Ash flicked on the lights to reveal Shorter crossing his arms and Eiji sitting up on the couch, rubbing his eyes from where he'd drifted off. "You're alive!" Eiji shrieked.

"Um, yes," said Ash. "We did text."

Eiji flung himself at Ash, hugging him. Shorter grabbed Yut-Lung.

"We texted!" Yut-Lung squeaked out. "Why were you so worried?"

"We assumed you were off doing something incredibly dangerous like usual," Shorter responded, clutching Yut-Lung to his chest. "And frankly I'm annoyed I wasn't invited." His boyfriend's hair was soft. "Fuck. You scared me."

 _I don't want you to get hurt._

 _I couldn't handle it._

Yut-Lung held him, pressing his face into Shorter's chest. "I'm fine. We weren't—well, a different kind of danger." He glanced at Ash, who was holding Eiji. "G'night." He took Shorter's hand and pulled him into Shorter's room, shutting the door.

"What happened?" Shorter asked.

"We went to Cape Cod," said Yut-Lung. "Ash's old home."

Shorter's eyes bulged. "You what?"

"He said it was for Eiji's Christmas present," said Yut-Lung. "He needed to get some papers. It's complicated. He would have gone by himself. We were both—wide awake last night, so I offered to go."

Shorter leaned back on the bed. "Did you meet his dad?"

Yut-Lung let out his breath. He untangled the scarf from around his neck and tossed it on the hook on the back of the door. "Yeah," he said, shrugging out of his coat. "His dad's a self-righteous prig and I told him off."

Shorter snorted. "I would have paid to be a fly on the wall to see that. Please tell me you used an uppity word like 'prig.'"

Yut-Lung smirked. "I didn't, but I called him a whore."

Shorter's eyes bulged. "You what? Have I mentioned I love you?"

Yut-Lung unwrapped the coil from around his hair, letting it loose. "His dad acted like—he treated Ash like—I always was afraid people would treat me. If they knew. Like I was dirty." His breath caught.

"You're not," Shorter said. He turned off the lights.

"I hope not," Yut-Lung whispered. He changed into his pajamas and dropped down next to Shorter, wrapping his arms around him. Shorter pulled him closer. Yut-Lung buried his face in his shoulder. His hair fell soft over Shorter's fingers and knuckles. His chest heaved as if he was in pain.

Shorter pressed his lips against Yut-Lung's temple. His eyes adjusted to the dark.

"It was just like—" Yut-Lung exhaled, breath warm against Shorter's face. "I had to listen to someone say the things that—Ash and I—probably—call ourselves daily. And it hurt. It's the type of thing I used to say to myself to make myself glad my mother was dead, so that she wouldn't have to see what they turned me into—no, not what they turned me into, what I _let_ them—what I became." His voice broke, crumpling into a sob. "I just wanted—redemption. I never wanted to be a vengeful—to kill them—to be—to do anything—I just wanted someone to see me. Someone to reach me. Someone to give me something to cling to so I could redeem myself, so I could be something other than— _that_. A whore. I thought if I had a goal, I could live. I thought—if I could escape—if I could be free of them, someone would come—but I never expected it either, at the same time. And I kept trying to die because of that."

"You can live," Shorter whispered.

Yut-Lung peered up at him. Tears drenched his face.

"You don't need to be redeemed to live," Shorter said, lacing his fingers through Yut-Lung's. His other hand caressed Yut-Lung's jawline. "I don't care whether you are, or not—I just care—about you. And you don't need me to be redeemed. You can do what you want. You're enough." He tilted his head back. "Plus, I like your snark."

Yut-Lung snorted. "But you do—inspire me."

Shorter swallowed. "You make me a better person, too, you know."

"Oh," said Yut-Lung, as if he hadn't thought of that before, hadn't thought he could be anything other than a burden.

"I'm sure Nadia's relieved I'm not quite as—troublesome to her as I was before. And Charlie must be relieved too." He knew how Ash felt when he met Eiji, now. He wanted Yut-Lung to be safe, and he wanted to be safe with him.

 _You made me realize there were parts of myself I didn't even know I had_.

He didn't quite know how to say that. He ran his thumb along Yut-Lung's chin. Yut-Lung met his eyes, and Shorter knew he believed him, even without words.

 _You trust me._

 _You know I won't misuse it._

Yut-Lung fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

"It's for your Christmas gift," was all Ash said when they got to their room. "Please don't make me tell you ahead of time."

"As if I could," Eiji said. "But."

"What?" Ash peeled off his shirt.

"Mine's better."

Ash wrinkled his nose. "Doubt it."

"It is," Eiji teased.

"Is not." Ash burrowed into their bed, pressing his face into the pillow. His voice came out muffled. "Ah—shaw—mo—fo—"

"English, please, or Japanese," Eiji requested. He settled in next to Ash.

Ash lifted his head, resting his chin on the pillow. "I saw my father today."

Eiji's smile vanished. "How was he?"

"Himself." Ash pressed his face back into the pillow. Eiji put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't you miss your parents?"

"I don't know," Eiji said. "I think—there's a part of me, and you'll be annoyed with me when I say this, but there's a part of me that felt like they only cared about how I could do at pole-vaulting. I know it's not true, but there is an—emphasis—on success, and I wasn't successful. At anything. I know my dad was disappointed in me. I heard him saying so. And he was sick, and they had so many other concerns besides me. I only felt like a burden."

Ash propped himself up on his elbow, frowning. A lock of blonde hair fell over his eyes. "Eiji. How come you didn't tell me this?"

Eiji shrugged. "First world problems?"

"It still hurt you."

"I think they're right," Eiji admitted. "To feel that way. But at the same time… I came to New York hoping to jolt myself out of it, make myself who they wanted me to be, and here I—well, I doubt this is what they wanted for me, but it's what _I_ want." He met Ash's gaze. _You_.

"I think I finally realized that today," Ash said. "After Yut-Lung let my dad have it. As only he can. You know how he is."

Eiji almost laughed at the idea. He coughed.

"I don't care," Ash said. "I mean, I care, but—I don't feel like I'm the dirty whore he's said I am." He gulped, clutching the pillow as if he was still uncertain.

"You _aren't,"_ insisted Eiji. "You're someone—beautiful to me."

"Oh, I am?" Ash snickered. "You're the one with those huge almond eyes and—"

"You like my eyes?" Eiji's mouth fell open.

"Well, yes?"

Ash had never remarked on his looks before. "Thanks," Eiji mumbled. He ran his hand along the edge of the blanket.

"Eiji?" Ash asked.

"Yeah?"

Ash brushed his lips against his. Eiji opened his mouth, and Ash pulled him closer. He wasn't sure how long they lay side by side, kissing, but by the time Ash broke away, they were both sweating and panting.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"I'm just tired," Ash said, voice husky. "You didn't—I mean—I'm fine. That was good. I liked it."

Eiji closed his eyes, trying to let the heat dissipate from his body.

"Eiji?" Ash asked.

"Mm?"

"I'd have sex with you. If you wanted to. Sometime. Not tonight. And we don't have to. But I think I could, with you."

Eiji's eyes popped open. "I would," he blurted out. "I mean, when you want to. If."

"Enthusiastic, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Eiji said.

"Okay," Ash said, snickering. "We will. Not tonight, but soon. You're a virgin, right?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"It's not a bad thing." Ash shifted. "It's probably good… I'd need to go slow. And you, too."

"Yeah." Eiji pressed his chin into Ash's shoulder, breathing in his scent as he fell asleep.

When he woke, Ash was still asleep, as per usual. He slipped out to find Shorter and Sing talking about some Chinatown business while Yut-Lung read what looked like a new library book, which was odd since he'd been gone all yesterday.

"I'm not telling you what he's getting you," Yut-Lung taunted as Eiji grabbed an apple and settled down next to him on the couch.

"I wasn't asking," Eiji said, biting into the apple.

"You look happy." Yut-Lung closed the book. He arched his eyebrows. His voice was low.

"Your ability to read people is not fun anymore," Eiji said. "We just—talked about things."

"Shorter and I talked last night, too." Yut-Lung flipped his hair. Sing and Shorter were still debating something. "But we—did go there. Last week." He smiled. "I liked it." He studied Eiji, as if wondering if he'd be judged.

"Good," said Eiji. "I'm glad."

* * *

Ash smirked as he checked the mail. Finally. Christmas was tomorrow and he finally got what he needed for Eiji's Christmas gift. Ibe had helped him by giving him the information he needed for Eiji.

He jogged up to the condo, letting himself inside. Yut-Lung waved from where he read from the stack of books they'd pilfered from the library. He was also playing Christmas music in the background. How funny. He supposed neither of them really had ever enjoyed the holiday in years, if ever.

He headed to his room, storing the envelope in a drawer. He pressed his forehead against the window, watching the clouds roll over the moon. There was no daylight, but lights glittered in scarlet and white all along the street.

 _I'm afraid to fly._

 _Hero,_ said Michael's voice.

 _Slut,_ said Marvin's.

He heard the sound of Shorter and Sing laughing, and Yut-Lung protesting something in Chinese in the living area. Ash let out his breath.

 _Son_ , teased Max's.

 _Whore,_ said his father's.

 _Friend,_ countered Yut-Lung's.

Ash let out his breath.

 _Murderer_ , screamed dozens of voices.

 _Angel,_ came Shorter's.

 _Devil,_ said Dino's.

"Ash?"

He turned to see Eiji standing there, brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

Ash nodded. "Yeah." He hesitated. "Can you say something for me?"

"Sure," Eiji said instantly. Because he trusted Ash.

"Can you say that… you care about me? Again?" Fuck, why had he—

Eiji moved closer, wrapping his arms around Ash, pulling him close. "I _love_ you, Aslan Callenreese." He pressed his cheek against Ash's chest.

Of course. He knew what Ash was really asking. Ash slumped, holding him. _I want to fly, with you._

He brought his lips to Eiji's, and this time, he didn't hold back. He'd never kissed like this before, with every emotion burning in his abdomen. He clutched Eiji to his chest. Eiji pushed back, as if he wanted to kiss him just as much, everything in, no secrets and no hesitations, no fears of maybe because maybe didn't matter; what mattered was now.

"Are you sure?" Eiji asked, sitting back on their bed.

Ash nodded.

"You can back out at any time."

"I know." He unbuckled Eiji's pants. "I don't want to." Ash studied Eiji's face. "Can I? I want you to—feel good."

Eiji nodded. His face was flushed. His fingers gently roved through Ash's hair, and all Ash could think was that kneeling in front of Eiji left him without a trace of fear or shame hiding in his bones. It was like kneeling in front of an angel, or a god. And when he heard Eiji gasping, when he finished, Eiji pulled him up, pulled him so that their faces were at an equal level again. Because he didn't see Ash as ash, worthless or broken, burned out and fit for nothing anymore but dirtying others. Instead, Ash could see himself reflected in Eiji's eyes, like the day he saw Eiji fly out of that enclosed place, the day Skip died, and he saw that Eiji saw him as someone flying, rising from ashes, rising again and again, ashes used to put a cross on foreheads, refined.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," Eiji replied.

Ash snorted "Did Shorter get you to watch _Star Wars?"_

"He did." Eiji reached out, and Ash lifted his arms up, helping Eiji slip Ash's shirt off. "You _are_ blonde there, too."

Ash hit Eiji on the head with a pillow. They both laughed. Laughter. Not gross complements or repressed insults. Eiji's hand cupped Ash's face. Ash fumbled to grab lubricant and a condom. He did not want Eiji in pain.

"There's no rush," Eiji said, pulling Ash closer. His lips embraced Ash's again, and Ash focused solely on kissing Eiji, on how sweet he tasted, on how he wanted to be there, on how this was something new for him, not the sticky cobwebs of the past. Eiji's skin felt warm against his, damp, and his eyes, the huge eyes that Ash loved, stayed open, stayed focused on him. He pulled Ash over him.

"Am I hurting you?" Ash managed, stroking Eiji's hair. _Please no. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be like_ _—like_ —

"No," Eiji said. "It just feels—different."

And Ash believed him.

"Aslan," Eiji said. " _Aslan_."

He dropped his head down, on Eiji's shoulder. His eye stung. His shaking subsided, and Eiji's arms were still around him. He shifted off Eiji, glancing at him, still afraid.

Eiji's hand cupped his chin. He kissed Ash on the nose.

Ash snorted. He wiped at his eyes.

"You're crying," Eiji said, and his voice cracked.

"So are you."

"Was it okay?" Eiji asked.

Ash nodded. "Just some—you know. But—I did like that." He could still hear the phantom voices, calling him those names. _Pet. Prostitute. It_.

"Ash," Eiji called him.

He met Eiji's gaze.

"I love you, Ash," Eiji said, wrapping him in his arms again.

"I love you, too," Ash mumbled. "Eiji. _You_." He was never Ash's weakness, but instead his strength. He closed his eyes. "See you on Christmas."

"That's in literally twelve minutes, Ash."

"Mmph."

"Can I wake you up at dawn?"

"No."

"Not even for Christmas morning?"

"Have mercy on me, Eiji."

The voices were silent, and it was dark out, but he slept.

* * *

"You don't need to be nervous," Shorter insisted.

"Well, I am," Yut-Lung mumbled. The sun was shining despite another overnight snowstorm. How very un-Christmaslike. Ash had woken up approximately two minutes before they left, and now he and Eiji trailed behind Yut-Lung and Shorter, hand in hand.

Shorter wrapped his arm around Yut-Lung as he knocked on Nadia's door.

 _Hello, I'm your brother's boyfriend. Sorry I kidnapped him. And almost broke him. And almost murdered him. And also we're sleeping together._

Shorter squeezed his shoulder. Behind him, he felt Eiji's fingers brush his arm, as if to reassure him. He glanced over his shoulder. Ash smiled at him, almost as if he wanted to encourage Yut-Lung.

The door flew open. "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year!" shouted Sing.

"Oh great, it's the over-caffeinated hamster," complained Ash.

"I'm going to kill your best friend, Shorter," said Sing.

"Fair," Shorter agreed.

"Hey!"

"Shorter!" A small woman with a pixie cut flung herself at Shorter, throwing her arms around him. Behind her, Yut-Lung spotted Charlie Jenkins, whom he knew.

"Yo, sis," said Shorter. He pulled back, gesturing. "This is Yut-Lung Lee."

"Hello," said Yut-Lung. "Your brother talks about you a lot. Good things." He heard Ash snort and decided to help Sing kill him later.

"It's great to meet you." Nadia gave him a quick hug.

 _Wow_. Yut-Lung had not expected that. He stiffened at the unexpected contact, and then relaxed.

"She has lots of embarrassing stories to tell you about Shorter," Charlie interjected.

"Shut it, Charlie."

"You can't threaten a policeman."

"Hasn't stopped me before."

"Oh, does she?" Yut-Lung asked, grinning at Nadia. She smiled back. Ash and Charlie started joking around, and then Max and Jessica arrived, and Sing and Eiji played with Michael. Ibe and Shorter debated something sports related. Yut-Lung retreated to the kitchen. He paused at a photo hanging on the cracked beige wall. Two adults, seated. The father held a little girl with a flower crown and a frilly dress on his lap, and the mother held a boy who couldn't have even been two yet.

"Our parents," said Nadia's voice.

Yut-Lung nodded. Shorter talked about them, but rarely.

"I heard you lost your mother, too. I'm sorry."

He swallowed. "It was years ago."

"Never really goes away, does it?"

Yut-Lung met her eyes. He shook his head. "No, it doesn't."

"Shorter said you might be afraid of me."

"Shorter's afraid of you."

Nadia snickered. "Probably."

"Do you want help?" Yut-Lung asked. He had to smile. He liked her. He wanted her to like him. _I want to be part of this family._

"I'll never turn it down." Nadia gestured. "Tell me, does Shorter still snore when he's tired?"

"Like a broken-down train," Yut-Lung confirmed.

"I can hear you!"

"Too bad!" hollered Nadia.

"Your food's better than Shorter's."

"I can hear that too!"

"He used to like fairy tale stories as a kid," confided Nadia. "We used to dress up like a princess and a knight. He was supposed to save me from the dragon, whom he also dressed up as. He stopped after our parents died."

Yut-Lung filled glasses of water at her beckoning. "My family's symbol is a dragon." Fitting.

"I don't think he thinks of you that way." Nadia rolled her eyes. "You make Shorter really happy."

Yut-Lung blinked. "Really?"

"Mm-hm."

"He makes me happy, too," Yut-Lung said softly.

Dinner was delicious, and Yut-Lung made mental notes to tease Shorter for his deficiencies in cooking compared to his sister. The air filled with laughter, with clinking glasses and clacking chopsticks, with Eiji patiently teaching Michael how to use them.

By the time they were all gathered in the living room to give presents, Yut-Lung felt so relaxed he didn't even worry when Shorter excused himself. He did, however, burst out laughing when Shorter came back wearing a Santa hat, with Sing in an elf hat and looking like he was contemplating stabbing Shorter.

"Oh my God, you heard that story," Ash complained.

"We did," Shorter confirmed.

Shorter seemed to like his fancy sweatshirt, so Yut-Lung felt calmer, even though he still felt frustrated with himself that the gift he struggled most with was his boyfriend's. He watched as Ash opened his gift. Ash's nose wrinkled. "For real?"

"For real," Yut-Lung confirmed.

"What?" asked Shorter.

"Well, there are four tickets," Ash said. "For all of us?"

"Double date," Shorter teased.

"What?" asked Max.

"Skydiving," Ash said. "Come summer."

"You did say you wanted to fly," said Yut-Lung. "I talked to Eiji about it."

Ash met Yut-Lung's eyes. "Thank you."

Eiji thrust a package into his hands next. Ash opened it and froze. Yut-Lung peered over.

A photo album. Half filled with photos of Ash. Laughing, staring out a window, bathed in sunlight, silhouetted against dusk.

"Now you see how I see you," Eiji said simply. "Ibe helped me. And there are more pages, so you can add to it."

 _Because your story's not over,_ Eiji had scrawled on the back corner. Yut-Lung smirked as he read it.

"Well, here," said Ash, clearing his throat. He shoved an envelope at Eiji.

Yut-Lung leaned back. He'd long since figured out why exactly Ash needed those documents from Cape Cod.

"Wh-what?" Eiji stammered.

"Two tickets," said Ash. "Well, two roundtrip, so kind of like four, but for two people. I needed my birth certificate to apply for a passport."

"To Japan," Sing surmised.

Eiji nodded. He clapped his hand to his mouth.

"I'm going with you," Ash added.

Eiji threw his arms around him, holding Ash tight. Yut-Lung and Shorter exchanged a grin.

"Just don't make me eat natto," Ash said gruffly.

"What's this?" Yut-Lung asked, opening Shorter's gift, which looked like a check with a bunch of brochures. And then he realized.

"You want to go to college, don't you?" Shorter asked. "It's not much, since you can probably afford it on your own, and of course you'll get in wherever you want because let's face it, you're you, and you could write that on the application essay and get accepted, but what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't at least cover your books and application fees?"

Yut-Lung swallowed. His gift of clothes felt even lamer. He did have something for Nadia, though.

"You didn't have to do this," said Nadia.

"I wanted to," Yut-Lung answered honestly. A Christmas gift, and an atonement gift.

Her eyes bulged.

"What's that?" asked Shorter, the snowball tip of the Santa hat slapping Yut-Lung in the face when he turned too quickly.

"It's property," said Yut-Lung. "For Chang Dai's second opening." He'd haggled until he got a reasonable price.

Nadia just stared at him.

"What?" he asked. Okay, it was extravagant. But a lot. But- "I really wanted to." He twisted his shirt in his hands. Oh, fuck, he'd-

Nadia grabbed him in an embrace. Charlie was almost crying. And Shorter mouthed "thank you" at him. Even Ash looked impressed.

"We have a lot of old artifacts in our family," said Yut-Lung. "That I would rather see go to good use. I'd be happy to let you choose, if you'd like to use them to decorate."

Nadia nodded. "Yut-Lung… thank you."

He flushed. She reminded him of his mother. So young for all her responsibilities. If his mother had had a dream like opening a restaurant, Yut-Lung didn't know what it was. But he liked to think she did.

Nadia cleared her throat, wiping her eyes. "One last thing." She handed Shorter a card.

"You already got me a gift card," Shorter said. "Don't go broke on my account, sis."

"It's not really a gift," admitted Nadia. "It's… something else." She squeezed Charlie's hand.

"Oh?" Shorter opened it. He froze.

"Huh?" Sing peered over Shorter's shoulder. Jessica covered her mouth. Yut-Lung leaned in.

A sonogram.

"For real?" eked out Shorter.

"Yeah," said Nadia.

"What?" asked Eiji.

"Nadia's pregnant," said Charlie.

Ash's eyes bulged. Eiji burst into laughter. Ibe grinned.

"Congrats, Charlie," Ash said, shaking his head.

Yut-Lung saw Shorter's eyes misting up. He grabbed his sister in a hug. "They'd be—proud of you."

 _Your parents._

"And of you," Nadia managed. Now she was crying.

 _Mother... you'd be proud too, wouldn't you? That I'm happy. That would be enough, wouldn't it, to make you proud?_

"I will have to teach my nephew or niece how to be a gangster," vowed Shorter, pulling away.

"Just how to fire a gun," said Ash.

"Oh hell no!" Charlie yelped.

That evening, when they finally left, Yut-Lung caught a glimpse of a star or two even against all the sparkling Christmas lights. He clung to Shorter's hand.

"I liked your sister," Yut-Lung said.

"She likes you, too."

"You're going to be an uncle," said Yut-Lung, watching Ash skid on a patch of ice up ahead, and Eiji right him.

Shorter tossed him a smirk. "You'll be one too unless you plan on dumping me."

Yut-Lung's voice caught in his throat. _I will?_

 _I will._

 _I'm_ —

 _You_ —

 _I have_ _—a family?_

He could feel the brochures in his pocket, but he gripped Shorter's hand tighter. He nodded. "I'm sorry—my gift wasn't better—"

"Huh?" Shorter blinked. "You got Nadia her freaking dream back." And he was already wearing the sweatshirt.

 _Oh_. The streetlight lit up Shorter's face in gold. _You. You're like Ash in that way._

 _You're happiest when your loved ones are safest._

 _You don't have to earn it._

"You're gonna be so grumpy without sleep on the plane!" Eiji sang out from up ahead. He glanced behind him and smiled at Yut-Lung.

Yut-Lung remembered Eiji's conversation with him about his family meeting Ash. _You're afraid._

"Come on," Ash said, helping Eiji climb over a weirdly placed snow bank. The plowman must have been drunk.

 _But you can face it with Ash._

 _And you,_ Yut-Lung thought, facing Shorter as he and Shorter climbed over the snowbank together. _You don't have to work so hard to earn things_.

 _I think you're amazing the way you are, and that's why you'll be a great uncle._

Nadia knew it, too. _We all trust you._

"Hey, Shorter," said Yut-Lung.

"Yeah?" Shorter paused.

Yut-Lung grabbed him, kissing him under the glowing street light. Eiji let out a wolf whistle and then a yelp as Ash probably teased him.

 _You can have your fairy tale ending. A twisted one, without a happily ever after, but, there is an ever after._

 _Because I can figure it out, with you._


End file.
